


When You Love A Woman

by gracesfonda



Category: Grace and Frankie (TV)
Genre: Angst, Eventual Smut, F/F, Fluff and Smut, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-03
Updated: 2019-01-14
Packaged: 2019-07-24 12:13:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 31,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16174841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gracesfonda/pseuds/gracesfonda
Summary: Grace and Frankie are thrown into the world, and they only have each other to cling to.





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> im rating this teen right now, it'll eventually go up when i get to the smutty parts (thank god!) but as of now this is mapped out to be about 15 or so chapters, so bear with me. and ill try to update as often as i can! please feel free to leave feedback, good or bad. :)

Frankie sneaks a quick, tear filled glance to her left, her eyes lingering on her fragile best friend and the tears openly flowing down her face threatening to destroy her perfectly done up makeup. Frankie watches as the silent tears leave two wet marks on the front of Graces fruit, or whatever the fuck that pattern was, shirt. 

When her best friends pain becomes too much to directly take in, Frankie adverts her eyes toward the ocean. The ocean that they love, that they’ve each found their own comfort in over the years, found their own freedom in, separately and together. Her eyes go from the ocean to the focal point she’s been avoiding since they sat down, the big fucking slap in the face: the SOLD sign in bold print in their yard. 

Frankie squeezes the cold, skinny hand placed in hers a little tighter when she hears a strangled sob escape the strong woman’s throat. The tragic sound brings her back to the present, with Grace, pissed as fuck at their goddamn children, and not knowing where the hell to go from here.

“Grace, honey, its going to be okay,” Frankie soothes, trying hard to believe the words coming out of her own mouth, her voice low as she rubs circles on the older woman’s skin with her fingers. 

“How can you say that? How can you act like you know? For fucks sake, we’ll probably die out here, fucking homeless! I believe our own children did this to us, those fuckers!” 

Despite herself, Frankie chuckles at Graces outburst. “We are not dying out here! C’mon, I hid a spare key to the studio a while back, we can go grab some stuff to help us get by at a hotel for a while before we can figure things out.”

Grace hated the idea of staying in a hotel, let alone living in one, mostly because this meant sharing a room with Frankie and getting little to no sleep, having absolutely no privacy, and they didn’t exactly have a lot of money at the moment. Between paying for Walden Villas, being scammed by the contractor and not being able to work on Vybrant, their financial situation wasn’t the best and they’d have to settle for a somewhat seedy hotel, nowhere close to the Hilton or the Four Seasons Grace would have preferred. But Grace was in no position to complain and anything would be better than Walden Villas. Hell, Frankies leather couch that was covered in fondue cheese would be heaven right now. 

“The only thing helping me get by in a hotel is about twelve gallons of fucking vodka,” Grace sighed. 

Frankies hand being extending out to Grace brought her out of her thoughts and she grabbed the hand in front of her, accepting the help. Her hip was screaming in protest from sitting so long after the long walk on the beach but no where near as much as her knee was screaming at her. 

“Fuck me,” Grace mumbled, her hands latching onto Frankie, begging for silent support as her friend helped pull her up. 

“Take me to dinner first,” Frankie chuckled, “lets get you inside and off that leg.”

Grace found herself grinning at Frankie’s response, despite her pain. Frankie’s strong hands are wrapped around Graces frail frame as they slowly make their way up the stairs. After a moments search Frankie produces a key to unlock the studio, Grace gets the key in the lock in record time and swings the door open with a little too much force. 

Frankie hurries past Grace, taking in the space she’s called home for the last four years but hasn’t set foot in in the last four months. She scurries around as Grace watches, breathing in the stale-weed-paint-salt air mixture, and resting against the door frame. Frankie disappears and reappears a few times, with different handfuls of things each time.

“How did we move out and you still have this much shit?” Grace asks, wondering out loud.

“You know how I am, Grace. But, you better be thanking the Goddess that I do, sister,” Frankie says, with her back to Grace, but she can hear the smile in her words. Frankie turns around, showing off her findings: a full half gallon of vodka and a good size bag of weed.

“Why the hell did we leave that?” Grace asked, her eyes wide, suddenly very interested in what Frankie was doing.

“I left it as a coming home present for us, you know, for when we came home. And, I’m glad I did because we sure fucking need it. Shit, I don’t have any wraps but I have to have a bowl around here somewhere,” Frankie said as she began frantically searching the area around her. 

“Look in the stand next to where your paints were,” Grace suggested, Frankie raised an eyebrow to her. “You like to smoke out of a bowl or a bong while painting so you don’t have to hold the continuously burning joint or blunt. Don’t look so surprised, I pay attention to things too.” 

Frankie walked over to the other side of her studio where she did her painting and pulled a bowl out of one of her paint drawers, “Grace Hanson! You really are a witch!” 

Grace laughed, and pulled her phone out of her jeans pocket:  
3 iMessages from Brianna  
1 Missed Call & 1 Voicemail from Mallory  
1 iMessage from Bud  
2 iMessages from Coyote

“Looks like the kids found out we fled the coup, they’re blowing up my phone,” Grace sighed, not even bothering to unlock her phone. She powered it down and slipped it back into her pocket. 

“Fuck them, call us an Uber, I’m almost done grabbing things for us,” Frankie instructed. 

“Let me use your phone, I just turned mine off so the kids would get the hint I don’t want to fucking talk to them,” Grace replied, holding her hand out. 

“When you find it, its all yours!” Frankie laughed, turning back to her own task.

“Fuck, Frances, we’ve been in your studio all of ten minutes and you already lost your phone!” Grace chuckled and began searching.

 

Thirty minutes later, Grace and Frankie were stepping out of a 2017 white Chevy Malibu into the humid air of the California night and onto the concrete of the only motel they could find in a 30 mile radius that had decent reviews. It was out of their price range but Grace had saved up plenty of SkyMiles over the years and this motel accepted them. They had both agreed a motel was a necessity due to the fact that they wanted to smoke up and a hotel would make that harder. 

Grace walked into the office, slightly limping and carrying the smaller of the two duffle bags. She had booked their room on the ride there from Frankie’s almost dead phone, so the checkin process was quite simple. 

“Grace, are you sure you can make it up these stairs?” Frankie asked, her voice laced with concern.

“Yes, Frankie, the quicker I get up these goddamn stairs, the sooner I can get out of these clothes and enjoy that welcome home gift you left us.”

“Let me know if you need help, I’m right here,” Frankie repeated from behind her. 

“See! I told you I could do it!” Grace squealed when she reached the top, the duffle bag she was carrying now laying on the ground as she leaned over and tried to take some of the pressure off her leg. 

Frankie placed an encouraging hand on the small of Graces back and Grace took the room key out of her pocket.

“204, its right there!” Grace smiled, as she picked up the duffle and walked the remaining few feet to the door and opened it. She swung the door open and held her breath until the room was fully visible. She let out a sigh of relief as she stepped inside, it looked clean, smelled clean, it was spacious, there were two beds, and a nice bathroom. This might not be so bad.

Right as the door closed behind them, Grace was pulling the zipper of the bag open in search of the vodka. She emptied its contents while in search for her vise: two iPhone chargers, a pair of headphones, some sports bras, socks, panties, a few dresses, some yoga pants, a few tee shirts, and no vodka. 

“Frankie, where is the vodka?” Grace asked, the contents of the bag all over the bed in front her her. 

“In this bag, you wanna smoke?” Frankie asked as she pulled out the vodka and weed simultaneously. 

“Yes, please, mind if I shower first?” Grace asked, grabbing the vodka from Frankie and strolling over to the table with disposable cups. She ripped one out of the wrapper and filled it with vodka, taking a generous swig, enjoying the slight burn it gave. 

“Thats fine, I’m gonna change and then I’ll be out side waiting. Oh, you can wear anything I packed, I grabbed some things that were too small on me and I didn’t think you’d completely hate. We can go pick you up stuff tomorrow, but for tonight I figured it’d be fine.”

“Yes, I can handle dressing like a hippie for one night,” Grace laughed, winking at Frankie as she grabbed a pair of the yogas and a tee shirt off the bed and walked into the bathroom.

Grace closed the heavy bathroom door gently behind her as she stripped off her clothes. She stepped under the powerful spray, turned it almost as hot as it would go and let the water begin to rinse all the negativity from the day down the drain.

Frankie had just finished changing into her pajamas when she heard a repeated banging noise from the bathroom, she walked over to the door and knocked gently.

“Grace, are you okay?” She shouted through the closed door.

“I forgot soap and shampoo and conditioner, and my skin can’t handle the cheap shit they have in here. Can you bring me ours?” Grace shouted back.

“Just a sec,” Frankie answered. When she returned a moment later, she opened the bathroom door slightly. “Here, Grace.”

Grace stuck her head out of the curtain and began to laugh, Frankie had her arms stretched out in front of her, her head completely turned away from Grace, and her eyes glued shut.

“Frankie, I’m gonna need you to open your eyes so you can see where to hand those bottles, I can’t stretch that far without falling on top of you and killing both of us in the process,” Grace said, failing to keep the amusement from her voice. 

“Are you fucking covered?” Frankie asked, her voice rough. 

“Yes,” Grace answered, her left hand holding the shower curtain over her body, her other hand out stretched and waiting for the bottles.

Frankie slowly opened her eyes and began handing Grace first the shampoo then the conditioner then the body wash. She realized she was staring at Grace, her wet hair stuck to her face, makeup long washed away by tears and water, and Frankie couldn’t remember a time when she had looked so beautiful. 

“Are you okay?” Grace asked, her face wrinkled with concern as she set the last bottle on the rim of the tub.

“Yes, sorry, I just don’t really get the privilege of seeing you without your makeup too often,” Frankie told her, shrugging, and turning to leave, as Graces face began to heat from the compliment. “Oh, you little hussy! Is that lace I see?” Frankie shrieked with laughter, as she moved Graces carefully folded clothes and picked up the garment that caught her eye. Grace dropped her head in her free hand as she felt heat once again creep up her skin. “Why do you wear stuff like this? It can’t be comfortable!” Frankie laughed, as she held up the pale pink lace thong. 

“Frankie,” Grace sighed, knowing a truthful answer was the only way she was getting out of this conversation. “I wear it and things like it because it makes me feel sexy,” Grace confessed, looking into her friends eyes as the powerful spray continued to hit her back.

Frankie set the panties back down on the now unfolded pile of clothes and had put her serious face on. “Honey, you don’t need a lace set of knickers to feel sexy. I could help you feel sexy, you know,” Frankie said with a wink.

“Frankie, don’t you find it a little inappropriate to be asking if I want you to do things to me while Im in the shower, naked?” Grace asked as a whole new red color took over her face.

“Now you’re just putting words in my mouth! But, no, not if you’re into it,” Frankie shrugged with a shit eating grin on her face.

“Wait, Frankie, is that my shirt?” Grace asked as she turned back to the spray and began to shampoo her hair.

“I don’t know? Is it? It was in my studio,” Frankie answered, before she left the bathroom, leaving Grace to process what the hell just happened. 

Grace emerged from the bathroom feeling like an entirely new person, probably because nothing she was wearing belonged to her and nothing she showered with was hers. She grabbed her half full cup from the side table and quickly topped it off before brushing her hair and then joining Frankie outside.

“My clothes look amazing on you!” Frankie praised her as she sat down on the stairs next to Frankie, her bowl and bag of weed. Grace set her cup down and took the bowl from Frankie. She pressed it to her lips, lit the weed, remover her thumb from the choke, and inhaled deeply.

“Thanks, full disclosure though, I had to go completely fucking commando under these clothes,” She confessed, with a small laugh, letting the smoke out of her lungs.

“Oh, I do that most of the time anyway, I feel more free when my body can breathe,” Frankie told her, then she took a small sip of Graces vodka. “We might as well get crazy and cross faded as fuck, right? I seriously hate our fucking kids at the moment. I could just—I don’t even know what, thats how fucking pissed they’ve got me!” Frankie seethed, her fist clenching.

“I know, I can’t remember the last time I was this mad at them!” Grace responded, after she drank more of her vodka.

“I say we ground all their fucking adult asses and see how the fuck they like not being able to do what they want!” 

“You know,” Grace laughed, “thats not a bad idea.” A light breeze ran a shiver through the older woman’s body, resulting in goose flesh. “Lets get inside before we catch pneumonia.”

Once they were back inside, Grace locked the deadbolt, emptied out the cashed weed from the bowl, plugged her phone into the cord Frankie had supplied her with and then sat at one of the breakfast chairs while sipping her vodka rather fast. Her head was already foggy from the two cups she’d finished and the weed she’d smoked. 

Deciding to call it a night, Grace finished her vodka and stood up slowly, knowing she would be unsteady on her feet. As she began to walk to her bed, she heard an unsettling sound coming from the closed bathroom door. She walked over to it and pressed her body against it, struggling to hear against the sound of the shower.

Right as she raised her hand to knock, she heard the spray turn off and Frankie mutter to herself to get it together, and to stop blubbering like a pussy. Grace immediately wanted to open the door and comfort her friend. 

Not wanting Frankie to find her eavesdropping against the bathroom door, Grace quickly, clumsily, and drunkenly made her way to her bed. She threw the covers back and crawled in, then switched her lamp off and pretended to be asleep.

Grace had her back to the bathroom, but she heard Frankie come out. She listened as Frankie, still struggling with her emotions, blew her nose and laid down in bed. 

“Grace,” Frankie whispered, “are you awake?” And when Grace didn’t respond, she too turned off her lamp and laid down, facing away from Grace, waiting for sleep to take over her messy mind.


	2. Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grace and Frankie spend their first night in the motel together

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading guys! i’m gonna try to update this fic once a week!

Grace tossed and turned in the early hours of the morning, her mind foggy, her body painfully awake with arousal. Her dreams had briefly jolted her away from her slumber in the night, her thighs pressing together, a small moan escaping her lips, a hand coming in contact with an already erect nipple giving her just enough relief to fall back asleep but this time, the feeling was stronger. There was no going back to sleep with this feeling of arousal knocking her feet out from under her and carrying her away from the safety of the tide. 

Her achy hands quickly rid herself of her silk pajama bottoms while her eyes remained closed, the feeling of the fabric moving down her smooth legs gave her goose flesh. Except her foggy, hungover mind realizes a moment too late, after the bottoms are discarded somewhere to the left of her bed onto the floor, those pajamas aren’t silk. These pajamas don’t even belong to her. They’re Frankie’s. Frankie. Who, how could Grace fucking forget, is sleeping in the bed right next to her. 

Grace has her eyes closed shut so painfully tight, willing herself the courage to open just one eye long enough to steal a glance at the bed to her left, to confirm Frankie is still asleep. Graces mind is far less foggy than when she woke, but the sea of arousal she felt before has only been placed on the back burner. 

Times like this, Grace can hardly believe that she went days, weeks, months, sometimes even years at a time without so much as thinking about an orgasm. Let alone actually having one. Then, Frankie came along and made Graces world about women’s pleasure, clitoral stimulation, yam lube, masturbation, and vibrators. 

In the last few years, Grace taught herself everything she now knows about her own body, about what she likes and how she likes it. About how she likes her foreplay full of subtle teases, like a dance or flirtation, how men are clumsy and she can give herself better orgasms than any man. How she likes her own two fingers more than any penis she’s ever had. She knows how to make it last, how to chase the finish line before crossing it; she knows how to make the most of it. How slow and steady makes her legs shake but fast and hard makes her whole body convulse. One gives her almost painfully slow orgasms and with the other, she comes fast, both are powerful and Grace has no idea how she lived so long without this, knows she can’t live without it anymore.

She also has no idea how she’s going to live in a shared room for God only knows how long with Frankie when she has absolutely no privacy and has these needs. 

Sure, Grace thinks, Frankie has these needs, too. I could just tell her, casually. Sure, Grace, just walk up to her and say: ‘hey, Frankie, wanna make yourself scarce for half an hour so I can rub one out like a horny teenager?’ 

In the end she laughs at herself, no closer to a solution than she was when she woke up and her bare thighs are still clenched together trying to achieve any relief at all. Grace's eyes snap open as she realizes two things at once: she’s naked from the waist down and uncovered, and she can feel her own arousal on the inside of her thigh. 

The realization of the second thing makes her moan and the arousal comes flooding back to her, knocking her off balance again. Grace quickly glances to her left, finally, and sees Frankie is still soundly asleep in the bed next to her. Thank God Grace thinks as she grabs the sheet and drapes it over her body, the fabric giving her gooseflesh all over again. You can do this, Grace, it’s early as hell, she won’t wake up if you’re quiet. 

Grace took a deep breath and when she exhaled it came out as a chuckle of disbelief. Never in her life had she masturbated in a room with anyone conscious or unconscious, she never used to need to get off like this before, and if she was being completely honest the thought of it was exciting her further. Her hand snuck up her shirt, exposing the soft skin of her stomach. Frankie’s shirt, her mind screamed at her, her fingernails gently digging across her delicate skin, she flicks her thumb across her nipple and sharply draws in a shaky breath. 

Fuck the foreplay, you’re ready, her mind screams, impatiently. She slowly lifts her knees off the bed and drapes the sheet carefully over her legs so if Frankie were to wake up she wouldn’t be able to tell what Grace was doing, hopefully. 

The air in the room was hot, the air conditioner not doing its job and Grace already had small beads of sweat forming on her forehead. 

After sneaking one last glance to her left to ensure Frankie was still deep in slumber, Grace let her fingers travel home, through thin, short strands of grey hair that she didn’t bother to wax anymore, only trim, partially because she didn’t give a fuck and partially because it hurt like a bitch. 

The skinny fingers of her right hand make the first contact with her swollen clitoris and her hips involuntarily jerk towards the ceiling, her vision blurs but not enough to not catch the movement out of her peripheral vision: Frankie stirring in her sleep. Grace stills her movements until Frankie settles then her fingers continue their journey home. She lets one drag slowly through her slick folds, gathering her arousal on the digit before she slowly sinks into her core. 

As soon as one finger is buried inside herself, she knows it’s not enough, not today, not when she’s like this. And, she knows slow and steady isn’t gonna do the trick, not today, not when she’s like this. She quickly withdraws her finger and adds another, while her thumb wildly circles her clit. Graces other hand has a fistful of the white sheets, she sees Frankie stir again slightly and bites down hard on her bottom lip. When Frankie finally stills again, Grace works harder knowing it’s not going to take much more and Frankie could wake at any moment. 

As Grace nears the edge of the waterfall, she doesn’t attempt to keep herself from falling over, she lets the current take her, lets it rip her off her feet and she swims with it toward the edge and flings herself over as her eyes roll back, she bites into her left forearm to stop herself from crying out, her whole body spasms as Frankie’s asleep next to her but that’s the farthest thing from her mind. The closest, is how she wants something to pull on, something to ground her, something that’s better than these cheap sheets, something like the ones on her bed, or Frankie’s hair. 

Grace sits up suddenly, her hands still between her legs, still riding out the last few waves of her powerful release, Frankie’s hair? What the fuck? That was definitely a new thought. She didn’t dare call it a fantasy because that’s not what that was, by any means. 

Grace lays back down, focusing on her breathing and leaves her sticky, coated hand dangling off the bed as a reminder not to touch anything until she’s washed it but before she can do that, she needs a moment to recover. 

 

“Ugh!” Grace moans from deep in her throat when a pounding sound travels through her ears and seems to land directly in the middle of her alcohol recovering brain. She slams the pillow over her face and closes her eyes. 

“Wakey, wakey! It’s 9am and we need breakfast ASAP. I’m hungover as fuck and it’s not a normal feeling for me so I am going to need you to walk me through this,” Frankie says, entirely too close to Grace. 

“Why are you in my room?” Grace asks, her voice horse and her arm aching. 

“This is our room, Grace,” Frankie laughs and the memories of this morning come flooding back to her: waking up, glancing at the clock, desperate, discarding her pajamas bottoms, touching herself into a blissful release next to her best friend that ended abruptly when she thought about Frankie. 

“Fuck,” Grace whispered against the pillow, the air in the room getting thicker, too thick to travel into her lungs. She was starting to panic. The sun was up now, she couldn’t hide behind a curtain of darkness. 

“Grace,” Frankie whined, “we have a busy day today. We have to deal with our fucking kids, go pick up things we need, look for somewhere to live - why are your pants on the floor?” Frankie laughed. 

“I got, uh, I got really hot and had to take them off,” Grace offered up, impressed with herself. 

“Oh, I see,” Frankie said, her eyes glued to Graces arm, examining it. Grace eyes followed Frankie’s, searching to see what the big deal was and she immediately found it: a red bite mark on her forearm. Grace felt the same color running up her neck at record speed, she averted her eyes, not wanting to look at Frankie. Not wanting her to bring it up. 

A deep breath escapes Graces lungs she hadn’t even realized she was holding when the bathroom door closed behind Frankie. She quickly grabbed the yoga pants off the floor with her left hand and slid them over her legs. 

 

“Frankie!” Grace calls, sitting at the small desk in the hotel. She had just finished carefully drafting a very professionally profane email for their children, both Grace and Frankie had decided sending a group iMessage was not going to work this time considering their level of pissed off, and they both had turned their phones off, being the only people they wanted to talk to was each other. 

Frankie opened the bathroom door and stuck her head out, wearing her plush robe covered in a pot leaf pattern and dangling her toothbrush out of her mouth, toothpaste on her chin. Apparently it was one of Frankies couldn't live without items because she put it on her list of things Arlene took from their room at Walden Villas, along with her easel, blunt wraps, at least all of her flowy dresses, her bath bombs and hidden snacks. Graces list was much more practical: her laptop, makeup bag, her face wash and face cream, shampoo, conditioner, two few pairs of jeans, two button downs, one pant suit, pajamas, panties, bras, her slippers and the novels off her night stand. And, she didn't even need that much but Frankie had made the list and given it to Arlene and surprised Grace with it as a way to lift her spirits. 

 

Frankie had gone shopping that morning, after Grace had yelled at her to stop hogging the bathroom and had a mini breakdown, locking herself in, and turning the shower on so Frankie couldn't hear her sob. 

“Grace,” Frankie had said through the closed door, “I know you’re sad, and I know you don’t want to be stuck here with me, and you miss your privacy and you hate this and I’m sorry, just let me know you’re okay in there,” Frankie pleaded and Grace could hear the concern in her friends voice. 

“Frankie, I’m okay,” Grace struggled out through sobs. She finally came out of the bathroom a few minutes after she heard the front door slam, she drank a glass of vodka and fell asleep. 

When Grace woke, Frankie was carrying in a mixture of groceries and their own belongings and she set Graces car keys down on the table. 

“You did all this, Frankie?” Grace had asked, her mouth curling up into a smile.

“With the help of our trusty sidekick,” Frankie said with a smile, “I was going to let it wait a few days, rough it a little and just get the groceries today but when I seen how sad you were, I knew today was the day.”

Grace had felt her eyes prickle with tears as she outstretched her arms to wrap her best friend in a giant hug. Grace let the tears fall from her eyes as she buried her face in Frankies neck, long grey hairs invading her personal space, getting in her mouth, stuck in her eyelashes, but she didn't care. All that mattered was that Frankie was her person, and that they were going to get through this together.

The sound of Frankie clearing her throat brought Grace back to the present, she blinked the new tears away as she walked over to her bed with her laptop and sat down, patting the space beside her for Frankie.

“What happened to the rule of no laptops in bed?” Frankie asked, grinning.

“Well, unless you plan on sitting on my lap at that desk, there isn’t room for both of us so I think I can make an acception,” Grace teased back. “Here,” she said, holding her laptop out to Frankie, “read this.”

When Frankie finished reading, she burst out laughing. “When the kids read this, they're going to be scared shitless. Send it!” 

“Anything you want to add?” Grace asked, looking at Frankie.

“No, it's perfect the way it is. I especially like how after our names you added ‘SFP’ onto the other abbreviations. That is iconic, but true because we are ‘super fucking pissed.’” 

Frankie handed the laptop back and walked over to the mini fridge and pulled a box of ice cream sandwiches out of the little icebox and held them up.

“Dinner is served, I see,” Grace said, holding her hand out for one. When Frankie places it in her hand, the cold sensation gives her a chill.

“How longs it been since you had one of these?” Frankie asks, as she unwraps hers.

“Oh, I don't know, Frankie, quite a few years, probably?” 

“Oh, Grace, tell me you’re at least going to finish it!” Frankie replied, her eyes sad and locked on Grace as she took a bite of her ice cream. “Haven’t you tortured yourself enough for this lifetime?”

“I do not torture myself!” Grace spat back, mouth full of ice cream, suddenly very defensive and very self conscious.

“Honey, you know I see that you do,” Frankie said, her voice full of sympathy as she set her hand on Graces skinny wrist. 

“Putting on your detective hat, practicing your amateur sleuthing skills and being right a total of three fucking times does not mean you know jack shit about me!” Grace said, pulling her hand from Frankie’s grasp, her eyes dark and full of anger towards the woman she had found so much comfort in. 

“I know you do terrible things to yourself, lady. And I also know you don’t need to. And, I know that you could come to me anytime you’re having these feelings because I want to help you, Grace, even if you don’t want to help yourself, I know this, but I’m not sure you do. I know there’s no way in hell you're going to let yourself finish that ice cream sandwich and if by some miracle you do, I’ll catch you running right off to the bathroom.” Frankie stopped to catch her breath, “I know you’re just as beautiful when you have no makeup on and you’re wearing clothes that are three sizes too big. Grace, this image you try to make yourself out to be, it’s torture. You’ve spent all this time trying to be perfect that you lost sight of being happy.”

“What are you talking about? I’m perfectly fucking happy the way that I am!” 

“You’re perfectly fucking happy never consuming anything with a real taste or more than 200 calories at a time unless it’s alcoholic?” Frankie yelled. 

“I've been just fine all these years, haven’t I?” Grace yelled back, ice cream melting down her arm and tears burning her eyes. She stood up and walked toward the door, wanting fresh air. 

“Just fine? Grace, you’ve been starving all your life! If it’s not for food, its for vodka and if it’s not vodka, it’s been for desire, or for love. Look at that fucking mark you left on yourself! People who aren’t starving don’t do that!” Frankie had crossed the room and was now touching the red mark that was hidden by Graces top, but she knew exactly where it was and when her fingers came into contact with it, Grace shivered. 

“I - I can’t do this right now, I need some air and a goddamn drink but it looks like that’s off the table!” Grace said, throwing her melted ice cream sandwich in the trash by the door before flinging it open and stepping out into the night air. Turning back she added “and don’t fucking follow me!”


	3. Three

Days at the SeaSide Inn drag by excruciatingly slowly for both Grace and Frankie, although Frankie seems to be handling the days better than the nights, and Grace spends her time hiding her feelings all together. Some days are smooth sailing, while others hold nothing but rough waters. 

Ironically so, the SeaSide Inn isn’t even close to the ocean, and during one of their new nightly rituals on the steps outside with a joint in her hand, Grace pointed out that it was absolute bullshit, and Frankie, of course, agreed then came up with a plan to sue them for false advertisement. The ocean was something they both missed, both craved, both longed for.

Grace and Frankie's days were nothing like they used to be at the beach house, nothing like they were ‘before.’ Before stood for many things between them -- before this hell, before their kids ruined everything, before they were victims of this hurricane, before the SeaSide Inn, before the rats, but mostly, just before -- and their lives were finally beginning to resemble something that could very loosely be defined as ‘okay.’ Grace had made this transition years ago, to live with a flexible definition of okay, but Frankie had always adapted it, welcomed it in fact. 

Their days used to have structure, well at least Graces had, and she made sure of it. Frankies had a bit less structure but being thrown into something where there was no structure, no set plan, not even a rough draft, it was taking its toll on both women. 

Their new nightly ritual now consists of Grace taking a shower while Frankie facetimes Faith, but refuses to talk to Bud, refuses to even let him hold the phone up for Faith. When Grace gets out of the shower and has completed her own nightly routine, her and Frankie fall into their newly conjoined patterns. Frankie will brush Graces hair and lightly braid it, as to not give Grace a headache. At first Grace was hesitant about her hair being braided, but in the end she gave in, settling for Frankies hand in lieu of her curling iron or any other hair tool. Then Grace allows herself one plastic cup full of vodka that she takes outside, sometimes Frankie will sip on it with her and sometimes she won’t. Grace enjoys the times when she does though, when Frankie gets a little buzzed off a few gulps and laughs with Grace and maybe she even begins to understand why Grace is how she is, even if it's just a little. She sit on the steps next to Frankie, and they light up, sometimes it's the bowl, sometimes they roll a joint. But they always forget water despite the fact that Grace coughs every single time she inhales the sweet smoke into her delicate lungs. They go back inside their room, Frankie eats a snack while Grace finishes her vodka and they talk. Sometimes they talk a lot, sometimes they don't, sometimes they talk until they fall asleep, sometimes they talk to fall asleep. 

On Tuesday morning for Frankie, afternoon for Grace, Grace watches in silence as Frankie, covered in blankets from head to tie, flails about on top of the freshly made bed, whining about something Grace can’t quite make out.

“Okay, Frances,” Grace starts, gently, “you need to get up and get dressed. I can only handle so much self pity and I’ve had quite enough between the two of us this week.”

“No,” Frankie replies, without taking her head out of the cocoon she’s made. 

“Frankie!” Grace raises her voice slightly as she stands up, “do not make me come over there and rip those blankets off you!” 

“Normally I’d be totally into you ripping things off me but my mood today is complete shit so I don’t advise trying it, lady!” 

“I’m glad you haven’t lost your sense of humor,” Grace chuckles, “Come on! We can do whatever you want,” Grace leverages, making her way over to Frankie's bed and sitting down on it, “Although, I did plan out a day for us. Just get out of the fucking blanket coffin already!” 

Grace watches as Frankies head peeks out of the blankets, “Grace! You planned a day for us?” She shrieks, her arms come out of their confinements first, and find their way around Graces small frame, engulfing her in a bear hug.

“Last night, when you were facetiming Faith, I did a little intel on my phone and made a plan,” Grace beams. 

“I’m gonna try really hard to ignore the way you just said ‘did a little intel’ but oh my god! Thank you, Grace. Ugh, I could just kiss you!” 

“Please refrain from doing that,” Grace laughs, pulling out of the embrace and taking her friends hand. “I just really hate seeing you so down.”

“Oh, tell me what we're doing! Pretty please?” 

“I told you I’m not telling you!” Grace replied firmly, as she stood from her spot on Frankie's bed,, a genuine smile on her face, happier than she had been all week to be leaving their personal hell behind even if it was just for a few hours. 

An hour later, Grace was being towed behind Frankie, hand in hand, as Frankie beamed at the rides, the games, the animals, the snacks. Grace had already pulled her away from three cotton candy booths, promising her before they leave they could get a bag togo. 

“Grace?” Frankie asked, turning around to face the older woman, her hair more of a mess than usual due to the humidity, her eyes brighter than Grace ever remembered seeing them. 

“Yes?” 

“Will you win me a teddy bear?” Frankie took Graces hand and brought it to her mouth, silently begging.

“How can I say no?” Grace replies with a laugh and slight roll of her eyes, as she walks over to the carnie and pays him to play.

“Winning something for your girlfriend?” He asks as he hands Grace three balls. 

“I’m gonna try,” Grace responds with a look over her shoulder, her eyes catching Frankie’s who is grinning, but Grace isn't sure if its because of what the man said or because Grace actually agreed to do this. Either way, it's the most beautiful thing Grace has seen since they’ve been living in that motel, since then Frankies smile hasn't reached her eyes but right then, her whole face was lit up brighter than their Christmas tree after Frankie decorates it. 

Grace has never been one for sports, other than tennis, not that she would call throwing a baseball at a pile of beer bottles a sport, but this was a shit ton harder than it looked. Her arm would for sure be screaming at her tomorrow, and she had spent almost all her cash on this game. She was one throw away from winning Frankie the biggest teddy bear at this whole damn fair, if only she can knock over all the beer bottles. 

Behind her, Grace could hear Frankie yelling words of encouragement, also a few profanities when she had missed the bottles, but mostly encouragements. Grace could feel sweat beginning to form on her forehead and down her back. It probably wasn’t the best day to wear what Frankie liked to call her “comfort sweater” but it was all she had clean that would look acceptable with her jeans. 

Grace glanced quickly behind her, her eyes locked with Frankies as she mouthed “you’ve got this!” Grace turned back and threw her final ball, knocking all the bottles over, Frankie ran up to her and for the second time today, wrapped her arms around her.

“That was fucking intense! I knew you could do it though, you beast!” 

“I did it for you, Frankie,” Grace told her as she returned the hug. The man running the booth brought the giant teddy bear to Grace and smiled at her. When Frankie released her, Grace placed the bear in Frankies arms.

“Oh, thank you Grace!” Frankie whispered against the soft fabric of the bear. 

“Now, that I’ve spent almost all my cash, lets get you some cotton candy so we can get the fuck out of here. Its sweating balls!” Grace complains, wiping her forehead on the back of her hand.

“That is exactly why I dressed for the occasion,” Frankie laughs, twirling around, giving Grace a small fashion show, “but I have my beach bag in your car, I’m pretty sure there’s a tee shirt in there?” 

“Thank God, you’ve saved the day!” Grace replies, as she pulls the remainder of her money out of her front jeans pocket and hands it to the woman running the cotton candy booth. 

Ten minutes later, the women are walking to Graces car. She pressed the unlock button on her key fob and digs around the back seat until she finds the shirt Frankie was talking about. She holds it up to her face and inhales, it smells just like coconut oil and eucalyptus and sea salt with a hint of marijuana, the smell makes her homesick, before her eyes tear up anymore, Grace forces herself out of the car and upright.

“Where am I supposed to change?” She asks, mentally smacking herself that she didn't think of this before. 

“In the car? Right here? I don’t know? There's no one around so it's not like it matters,” Frankie says with a shrug of her shoulders before throwing her purse in the car and forcing the teddy bear into the small backseat.

“Right,” Grace mumbles, not wanting to seem like a prude, she takes a quick glance around her to make sure no one is around and quickly strips her sweater off and replaces it with Frankies tee shirt before she can think better of it. 

She throws the sweater into the backseat next to the bear and sits down in the driver's seat, Frankie looks over at her, shocked.

“Wow, Grace Hanson actually changed outside, in public!” She mocks.

“There’s things about me you don’t know, Frances, like the fact that I eat cotton candy!” Grace challenges back, with a grin as she reaches in Frankie bag of cotton candy and grabs out a small amount, placing it on her tongue with a delighted sigh. “I haven’t had cotton candy in, God, I don't even know how long.”

Frankie places her sticky hand over Graces on the shifter and squeezes, but she remains silent, a gentle reminder that they don’t always need words to touch each others hearts, and Grace feels her eyes tearing up, for the second time in the last ten minutes. She gently removes her hand from under Frankies, and uses it to turn the radio on, for no reason other than to try to recover from ruining the moment and to not hurt Frankies feelings. 

As they pull back into the motels lot, Grace can feel the anxiety slowly begin to build in her and she wonders if Frankie can feel it too. 

Later that evening, after she's completed her nightly ritual and is waiting for Frankie to join her on the steps, Grace finds herself more sober than usual and missing life ‘before.’ 

“Fuck,” Grace mutters to herself as she reaches into the weed bag and realizes how much of it they’ve smoked. “It's almost gone, Frances,” she tells her friend over her shoulder as she hears the door creak open behind her and passes the freshly packed bowl back to her. 

“We can get more,” Frankie responds with a shrug, taking a hit then sitting down next to Grace.

“We need to revise our checklist, for the apartment. We need to decide what we really need and what we don't because we can’t keep living like this. We need to lower our standards or knock a few things off our list because frankly we're not going to find anything at this rate, and I cannot fucking stand to be her anymore,” Grace tells Frankie, her voice soft but assertive. 

“Okay, we look for something smaller, it is just us after all, we don’t need much space. We look for a two bedroom, instead of three. A one bath, instead of two, I can give up the extra bedroom and bathroom but we need to be on the ocean or you might as well just fucking kill me now,” Frankie says, putting the bowl back in the bag and grabbing Graces still half full cup and taking a drink, “slow sipping tonight, are we?” 

“Something like that,” Grace says with a hint of laughter in her voice, she grabs her cup back from Frankies outstretched hand and uses the stair rail to helps herself stand up.

“We need something that has either first floor availability or an elevator, and a terrace or patio is a must so we can smoke. Anything else?” 

Grace unlocks their door and stepps inside, she sits her plastic cup down next to her bed and pulls her sheets back before climbing into bed. “Well, if were giving up the extra bedroom we need to make sure there’s room in the kitchen to have a table or enough counter space that we can use the island for a place to eat, then we can use the dining room as Vybrant headquarters. Sound good?”

“The fact that you called it our ‘headquarters’ made it dope as fuck! Yes, it sounds good!” Frankie squeals, then shut her lamp off. “Good night, Grace.”

“Night,” Grace mumbles, her mind already foggy with sleep and a smile playing at her lips. After a few minutes, she turns to face Frankie. “Hey, Frankie?” Grace whispers, “today meant a lot to me.” She lays in the dark, eyes wide, ears open, heart unguarded, and waits for a response but she’s only met with the sound of a soft snore.


	4. Four

A sigh of relief mixed with a cloud of marijuana smoke made its way out of Graces delicate lungs. Two weeks. Fourteen long fucking days. That’s how long they’ve have been living in this god awful Seaside Inn, with its beer colored carpet, clogging shower drain, hideous curtains, broken air conditioner and Frankie still can’t seem to stress enough it isn't even on the goddamn seaside. And for Frankie it seems like its been even longer since they’ve had contact with their children, minus their almost professional email exchange and the incident three nights ago when Bud answered Frankies nightly facetime call with Faith and it resulted in her iPhone being chucked across the room, flying past Graces head before she knew what was happening. 

The fact that it's been fourteen days in this hell is also the same reason why they are celebrating: only three more nights in this horrible place, then they move into their two bedroom, one and a half bathroom, ground floor apartment, on the actual fucking seaside. With its hardwood floors, big curtainless windows, and crisp white walls, just waiting to become their home. And tonight happened to be the only night celebrating was an option. Tomorrow wasn’t jam packed, it wasn't even semi packed, so they could handle a bit of a hangover unlike two days from now when the hard work began and they had to go back to Walden Villas one last time to pack the remainder of their things and ship them to the new apartment or into storage. And, the day after that they move in, leaving tonight to be the only time they have to celebrate their escape from hell, their escape from the ‘before’ in hopes to make a better ‘after’. 

The day after the fair, Grace began looking hard at places for them to live, running the battery of her laptop dead multiple times, calling countless landlords, and getting nowhere. She eventually hired the same realtor Brianna had used, or at least she thought he was the same realtor, Trevor. The apartment searching had been rather tedious, and Frankie left Grace to do all the work after she fell back into her slump and blanket coffin, the only thing different was this time Frankie was accompanied by an oversized stuffed bear. 

After visiting over twenty apartments that hit every bullet point on their list over the course of four days and not being able to bully Frankie into getting out of her ‘death by blankets and the most unhealthy snacks Grace would allow slump’, Grace put together a stack of printouts of each apartment, with a list of pros and cons, and then she ranked them in order by her favorite to least favorite, one to twenty four, and let Frankie get in on the decision making from the comforts of her spot in the middle of her matress. 

Grace called Trevor thirty minutes after presenting Frankie with her stack of information, so excited to tell him they would settle for apartments #1, #2, or #5 that her hands were subtly shaking. In the end, at a meeting across town in Trevors office, they formally decided on apartment #2. It was the best choice for many reasons: ground floor, spacious, slightly below their budget, on the beach, close to many farmers markets, quiet, liquor store right down the street, one and a half bathrooms, beautiful kitchen, thick walls, kitchen island and room for a table, the whole dining room could be Vybrant headquarters with enough extra space for Frankie to paint, it wasnt Walden Villas, it wasn’t fucking Walden Villas, and it fucking wasn’t Walden Villas.  
Grace was lost in her thoughts sitting at what had become her regular spot, on top of the cement stairs with a burning joint dangling between her freshly painted fingers, watching the street lights turn on as the world got darker around her when she heard the heavy motel door squeak open behind her. She waited for the sound of Frankies clogs and for Frankie to come plop down beside her, when she didn't Grace turned to look behind her.

Frankie had her head out the door, the rest of her body hid behind the wall, her long, goddess like hair was flowing down her over her shoulders and she was smiling. When Grace raised her eyebrows in question, Frankie stood up straighter, and held up a bottle of tequila that was hidden behind the wall at her side. “Up for some margaritas tonight, girl?” 

Graces lungs were full of smoke, in lieu of words she shrugged her shoulders in response. As soon as Frankie disappeared behind the closed door she was mentally kicking herself in the ass. Wow, Grace, you really will do anything to make her happy, won’t you? She heard the voice in her head scream at her but she ignored it, trying to mentally prepare for what she knew was coming. 

That old saying ‘tequila makes her clothes fall off’ just might be about Grace Hanson. She can handle almost anything Frankie throws at her: say yes nights with whiskey flutes, peyote, surprising her with psychedelic mushrooms after she ate one, 2AM trips to Del Taco, Grace could handle it all, but tequila makes her horny as fuck. And Grace was already on thin ice with putting her desire on the back burner. “Okay, Grace,” She whispered to herself, “you have been so good at discipline your whole life, you haven’t had an orgasm since the first night here. Think of how long you used to go without one. Three more days and you can have as many as you want, in your own room, just make it through tonight,” She pleaded with herself, hoping she really was strong enough to make it through the night without a hand down her pants. 

Grace avoids tequila like the plague, tequila is a whole different ball game than the one she plays so frequently with the opposing team being vodka. Weed has even become a good second string player these days, but tequila, tequila throws curveballs at the star player. Everytime tequila is involved, Grace finds herself looking for ways to be excused for the night before its even began, after just one or two margaritas, three if shes pushing it and although she’s hardly ever got more than a buzz, her body is working in overtime and the only thing its searching for is an orgsm. The problem is tonight there is no escaping when she gets a little too hot and bothered. There is no escaping at all. 

Grace empties out their bowl over the side of the stairs when the weeds cashed and she ready to head inside, already having stragatized her plays as best she could for the night in her head, trying hard to figure out the best outcome. When she steps into their dimly lit, depressing room, she finds Frankie at the kitchenette mixing their drinks. 

Frankie greets her with a smile and a red solo cup full of tequila and margarita mix. “ already drank one while you were outside but this batch I made stronger for you,” Frankie says, Grace thinks better of responding and instead sends a silent prayer to whoever might be listening, then she takes the cold drink from Frankies equally cold hand and brings it to her plump lips, lets the inviting liquid slide down her throat and settle into her empty stomach. 

“How is it?” Frankie asks, before she too takes a sip followed by a puckered face which gave her the answer to her own question. 

“I didn’t think it was that bad,” Grace shrugs, taking another gulp to prove a point.

“You are the drinker out of the two of us. Hell, I’ve already got a solid buzz,” Frankie admits. If anyone else had said it, Grace might have taken offense but Frankie, she knew, didn’t mean it in the way most people would have. 

“Not tequila, that's an animal I’d rather let lie,” Grace admits, as she sits down in one of the ugly chairs she's pretty sure could break any day, pulling her leg up under her and propping the other, the one with her sore knee, on Frankie's bed. 

“If you don’t like it, we didn’t have to drink it,” Frankie panics, “I just thought it would be fun to get something besides vodka drunk before we left this shithole.” Frankie get up from her spot on the bed and holds her hand out to Grace, waiting for her to place her drink in her hand.

“It’s not that I don’t like it,” Grace says, protecting her drink from Frankies eager hands, shooing her away with the other. 

“What is it then?” Frankie asks, waiting for further elaboration, sitting on the edge of the bed, by Graces leg.

“I’m not used to being tequila drunk, is all,” Grace says lightly with a shrug of her shoulders, not letting her friend in on just how much effort she put into those words sounding so nonchalant. 

“You mean the hangover it gives you? Is that why, come to think of it, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you have more than 3 margaritas at a time?”

“For you never paying attention, you sure notice a lot,” Grace chuckles, trying to avoid Frankies question without making it too obvious. “What's your least favorite alcohol?”

“Oh, that's a hard one because most of them taste like shit. Honestly I was never a fan of vodka before you. My least favorite it probably gin -- oh, no, you don’t lady. I see what you’re doing. Tell me, please, what's so bad about tequila?” Frankie asks, her puppy dog eyes coming into play. 

“It’s not even a bad thing, necessarily, most of the time anyway,” Grace says, taking another sip, chuckling to herself, feeling effects of the pot beginning to mix with the first few traces of the tequila in her blood. 

“Fine, don’t tell me. But, we’re gonna play a game to amp this little experience up.. I’ll ask you a question, if you answer it, I take a drink, if you refuse to answer it, you get to take a halfsie shot. And, vise versa,” Frankie explains.

Grace agrees reluctantly with a sigh.

“Well, you have to take a full shot because I asked you more than twice so let's get to stepping, sister!” Frankie squeals with laughter as she set a single shot glass in front of Grace and the bottle of tequila, along with the salt shaker and a lime she cut up earlier for the margaritas. 

“So much for a chill night,” Grace says before picking up the shot glass, deciding once again to show off to her friend against her better judgement and abandon the salt and lime. She opens her throat, just like her first boyfriend taught her after she threw up on her first shot of whiskey, and lets the liquid slide down, she slams the empty shot glass on the table and looks at Frankie with mischievous eyes. After a moment, when Frankie had made no attempt to move, Grace realizes she's waiting. “Oh, it's my turn, isnt it?” Grace chuckles. “Okay, Frances, who is the last man you fantasized about?” Grace knew her question was lame, but it was as wild as she was going to allow herself to get and the least wild Frankie would accept without making her ask again, Grace was high and now buzzed and the tequila was really amping her body up, so she figured questions that could lead to hot answers was not the road to lead them down. 

“I haven't really been fantasizing about men these days, Grace. Your questions are as vanilla as you,” Frankie says with a roll of her eyes, as she lifts her glass to take a sip at the same time as Grace lifts her foot to kick Frankies arm, knocking the solo cup onto Frankie laps, Graces leg and the bed. The cold liquid shocks both of them, they stand up, Grace shrieking, Frankie laughing. 

“Since you missed your drink, I think you need to take a shot?” Grace suggests, laughing and kicking her leg in attempt to get the access liquid off it.

“Let me change then I’ll take the shot, you pusher!” Frankie says as she walks very uncoordinatedly over to her side of the dresser they were now sharing and pulls out a pair of pajamas. WIth her back still to Grace, she lifts her wet shirt over her shoulders and throws it onto the floor. Grace caught the movement out of the corner of her eye and turned her full attention to Frankie, causing her to half swallow and half inhale her margarita, resulting in a worse coughing spell than she's ever had while smoking.

Frankie rushed to her side as fast as her off balance body could take her, asking what she could do to help with minimal slurring of her words. Grace shook her head, trying to regulate her breathing back to normal. When she finally stopped coughing, she began to laugh. “Thanks, I’m okay. Fuck, it just burned a lot.” 

“I know I have a hot body, Grace, but you’ve gotta keep it together!” Frankie teased, a grin playing at her lips. She grabbed her pajama bottoms off the table, “I’ll take these into the bathroom to change so I don’t put you at risk anymore out here.” 

Grace watched her drunk friend stumble into the bathroom, “I was surprised, Frankie. I wasn’t expecting to turn and find you half naked,” Grace rationalizes with the closed bathroom door, unsure why she was even explaining herself.

And, you weren’t expecting to like what you seen, came the voice in Graces head, shocking her. “It’s just the tequila, Grace, you know what it does to you,” Grace said out loud as Frankie exits the bathroom, fully clothed. 

“What exactly does the tequila do to you? You were supposed to tell me but never did,” Frankie said, then she picked up her shot and slammed it back with expertease. 

“Maybe you should slow down, you’re not used to drinking,” Grace suggested. “It makes me nauseous,” Grace added, avoiding meeting Frankies eye.

“And?”

 

“And-- horny.”

“That was the big thing? Horny? Jesus on a cracker, that's no secret, tequila makes everyone horny, it really makes me horny!” Frankie laughs as she pours another shot and takes it. “Your turn after this, by the way,” Frankie told her.

“Okay,” Grace agrees, taking the shot glass from her friend and pouring a full shot, keeping herself busy focusing on the bottle of tequila and not the fact that her friends mouth was just all over the same shot glass After her shot is gone, she picks up the bottle and the shot glass, walking them over to the mini fridge and puts them away.

“Wait, why did you feel like you couldn’t tell me you were horny?” Frankie asks, all humor leaving her body. 

“It's not that. It’s just, since we’ve been here, I haven’t been able to take care of myself in that way and that's something I’ve gotten quite used to. So, I’ve been a little frustrated and I knew the tequila would make it so much worse. I’m sorry, I should have told you, but you were so excited about us letting loose and having fun and I didn’t want to ruin it with my stupidness and make it awkward,” Grace confesses, the words pouring out of her like the margarita pouring out of Frankies cup earlier. When she recovers from her run on sentence, Grace takes a drink of her margarita. 

“I get it, I miss my vibrator a helluva lot, but if I'm being honest it's nothing compared to a real person. Grace?” 

“Don’t you dare ask if I want you to do stuff to me.”

“I was going to ask who was your best shag was because it's my turn to ask a question, but I see where your mind is,” Frankie responds, grinning. 

“Don’t you pin this on me! You are always asking me shit like that!” Grace feels the alcohol pumping through her veins and the heat traveling up her chest and settling into her face. 

“Hey, it was just a joke, Grace,” Frankie says.

“You can’t just go around saying things that you don’t mean!” Grace shouts back.

“Who said I didn’t mean it? If you asked me right now, if you said ‘Hey, Frankie, I haven’t had a good lay in, I dont know, fucking forever, wanna help me out with that?’ I would be on my knees so fast in front of you!” Frankie screams.

Her words hit Grace like a slap in the face, if a slap in the face were arousal resulting in erect nipples and her thighs slamming together. “Frankie, you’re drunk and straight, in case you fucking forgot!”

“Stop being so damn heteronormative, sometimes one human just wants to give another human mind blowing orgasms, gender doesn’t have to be a factor.”

“Yes, it does! Otherwise how would it even work? You happen to be missing some valuable parts in case you haven’t noticed!” Grace said, doing her best to keep her voice normal.

“I have other things that would work just fine,” Frankie slurs, wagging two fingers in the air by her side.

Grace closes her eyes, trying to ignore the visual and the piercing thought of what those fingers could do. Get a grip, Grace! Her mind screams at her, you’re horny and drunk, just like she is, that's all! She isn’t even going to remember this in the morning, and hopefully you won’t either!

“I’m taking a shower, I smell like weed,” Grace tells her friend as a way to excuse herself, she stands up and walks to the bathroom with her margarita still in hand. She hears Frankie ask to join as she closes the door, locks out the temptation. Grace chugs the little remainder of her drink, then strips off her clothes and steps under the cold spray. “Three more days, Grace, you can do this,” she whispers as her hand brushes past her sensitive nipple in route to her hair, drawing a whimper out of her. “This is going to be the longest three days of fucking your life!” She hears herself say and she spends the rest of her shower wondering if she’s ever spoke truer words.


	5. Five

Grace silently watched Frankie from her spot by the fridge, hip leaned up against the counter with a martini in her hand as she fought to get the toaster, microwave, coffee machine, fondue pot, panini maker, and popcorn maker all in the small square confinement of counter space Grace gave her for appliances and she chuckled to herself.

“Grace, we have a fucking problem!” Frankie whined, her back still to Grace, her arms flailing about beside her body, her hair bouncing with each movement.

“We do not need all these, pick three!” Grace said sternly as she placed her empty martini glass on the counter and prepared to go into the battle zone. 

“We need them all in order for survival!” Frankie panicked. “Grace, you can't take away my food friend makers! Please no,” Frankie pleaded, swatting Graces perfectly manicured hands away.

“You heard me, pick three and one of them better be the goddamn coffee maker!” Grace told Frankie as she walked out of the kitchen, heels clicking and hair also bouncing. She rounded the corner to her bedroom and caught sight of herself in the decorative mirror that hadn’t yet been hung. She stopped to look at the woman before her, she looked old, but she resembled the woman she was when she was young, the woman she was before she knew Robert, the woman who climbed trees to the tippy top and the woman who wasn’t so hard on herself. The woman who indulged, the woman Frankie tries to shake out of her, the woman who hides deep inside Grace but most of all the woman that still exists. A loud bang came from the kitchen, bringing Grace out of her thoughs and she took the remaining steps to her bedroom slammed the door harder behind her than she needed to.

Hours later when Grace emerged from her newly done up room she went right to the kitchen, not necessarily surprised to find it in the exact condition she left it in: a disaster. What she was surprised to find was the rest of the house in shambles.

“Frankie!” Grace screams from in her -- their new kitchen with its crisp off white walls and not enough counter space, where there are no cracks in the ceiling from graduation parties and bathtubs destroying the island, where she is surrounded counters cluttered by appliances and boxes full of pots and pans and and plates and silverware. When she doesn’t hear Frankie respond, Grace takes her hand out of the box it was occupied in and begins her journey through the wreckage of moving in. 

“Frankie!” She tries again, as she rounds the final corner for Frankie’s bedroom, one corner past her own room. “When the kitchen door closed behind me, the dining room and living room did not look like that!” Grace throws Frankie’s bedroom door open with force that will cause Frankie to assume she’s upset, but Grace doesn't see any movement. “And, you didn’t even touch a single thing in the fu--” Grace begins when she suddenly cuts herself off, hoping it's not too late: Frankie is sprawled out on her unmade bed, her hair flowing around her, she’s asleep. She resembles the picture in Grace’s head of the Goddess she is always talking so highly of. 

Grace smiles to herself as she pulls her phone out of the back pocket of her jeans and opens the camera, snapping a quick series of photos before shes caught red handed and red faced but it’s simply payback she justifies with herself. When Frankie doesn't wake up, Grace closes the distance between them and gently runs her fingers through her long locks, leans down and plants a gentle kiss on her friends warm forehead, a silent promise, she realizes, to do whatever she can in this lifetime and the next five to make Frankie happy, to make her smile. Grace stands up, straightens her shirt and without looking back over her shoulder she walks out of the bedroom to search for her vodka. 

Since Frankie has been asleep and left Grace to her own devices, she has made up a drinking game with herself: she's allowed one martini for the span of unpacking one room, when the room is finished she rewards herself with a shot, and moves on to the next. Frankie has been sleeping for almost five hours and since then Grace has unpacked and situated: the main bathroom, the entryway, the half bathroom, her bedroom which for what it lacks in size compared to Frankies it makes up for in walk in closet space, the dining room (she set up extra special with Frankies easel in the corner of the wall with the window that looks out onto the ocean, Grace put all of her paints and supplies on a stand that matches the one she had in her studio, the rest of the room was Vybrant ready), her last victim was the living room and she was almost done with it. All of which meant the vodka was giving Grace a run for her money, since she has been playing the game she's 5 shots and 6 martinis in, not including the one she had earlier in the kitchen. 

Grace took her favorite throw blanket from the top of the pile of extra blankets and closed the door to the small closet that now housed all their extra blankets, beach towels and beach supplies. She walked over to the new beige couch, draped the off white blanket over the back of it, and smiled, her eyes raking across the room appreciatively. The women had taken a new approach for their new apartment: minimalism. Their walls were mostly empty, the mantle held a stack of only four books, a framed photo of all the kids at Bud and Allison's wedding, and a framed candid from the wedding the photographer had snapped of Grace and Frankie. Frankie had wiped two fingers full of frosting on Graces cheek, an alcohol impaired Grace held her friend in place by straddling her lap and smashed her cheek into the other woman's face, leaving traces of white frosting on Frankies nose, cheeks, in her eyebrows, as well as still on Graces face. The photographer snapped the picture as Grace was pulling away, her eyes still pressed shut, Frankie’s eyes beaming, her hands on both sides of Frankie's face, grins plastered on both of theirs as well as frosting. 

“Beautiful!” She hears herself whisper but she's not sure anymore if she's talking about the room or the picture. She is startled out of her daze when a noise behind her travels through the apartment and she turns around to face a disheveled Frankie.

“It looks amazing in here!” Frankie says, as her eyes scan the room sounding put together as ever despite the fact that Grace could see the tears streaming down her face.

“The whole place is done with the exception of the kitchen. I figured we could do that together, maybe after we smoke a joint since it's probably going to cause an argument. We have to downsize the amount of appliances we keep.” Grace replies, as she takes a unsteady step toward the woman in front of her. “Are you--” 

“Are you drunk?” Frankie interrupts her, followed by her beautiful laugh.

“Yes, while you were asleep, I played a drinking game with myself. It was my motivation for getting all the unpacking done. And, I’ve still got to finish this martini and I’m a shot behind.”

As she lifts the glass to her lips, Frankie gives her a look that could only mean “well then you better get to sipping,” before wiping a tear from her face and Grace does exactly that. Frankie watches her as she downs her shot and she smiles.

“I’m not in the best mood right now so can we just save the fighting for tomorrow?” Frankie asks as she sits down on the couch.

“Yes, we can do the kitchen tomorrow. I’m really tired anyway,” Grace agrees, sitting down next to her. 

“And drunk.” 

Grace laughs, as she sits down next to Frankie. Close enough that their legs could brush up against one another if she were to lean over just a little. “Yes, and drunk. And you’re sad. So what do you suppose we do, Frances? Wanna talk about it?”

 

Frankie stands up and holds her hand out to Grace, silently offering to help her up. Grace takes her hand without hesitation and lets her friend pull her up from the soft cushion. Frankie opens the door to the small, fenced in empty patio outlooking the ocean. “We’re breaking this baby in!” She shrieks. 

Grace turns behind her and opened the door to the closet she had just organized and pulls out three of the thickest blankets they own and a few pillows. She throws them behind her onto the couch and carries it all to her arms fullest extent outside in two trips.

“Frankie, this is not going to be comfortable!” Grace shouts back into the apartment as she lays the blankets down on the grass and sets the pillows up for them. 

“At least we can do this on the grass, just think if we had gotten a second floor apartment we couldn't do this kinda shit!” Frankie says from the doorway, joint in hand.

“We won’t be doing this shit once the patio set we ordered is finally delivered!” Grace laughed, as she sat down on the blanket bed and patted the spot next to her. Frankie closed the screen door behind her and walked over to the older woman, the ocean breeze blowing her hair behind her. 

Frankie raised the joint to Graces lips and was oddly proud when Grace knew exactly what Frankie wanted. She parted her lips and let Frankie placed the joint between them and clicked the lighter until it spit out a flame. Grace inhaled the sweet smoke into her lungs and handed the joint over to her friend. 

“You gonna tell me why you were crying?” She asked gently, then laid back onto the pillows, surprised with how comfortable she was on the ground. 

“I miss Faith, I miss holding her and reading to her and kissing her and smelling her head. And, I miss those asshole kids of ours even though I pretty much fucking hate them. But, mostly I just miss that little baby,” Frankie whispered from beside Grace, her eyes tearing up once again. From the spot where Grace was laying, she opened her arms to Frankie, inviting her in. Frankie accepted her invitation and scooted down to lay her head on Graces shoulder. 

“I miss her, too,” Grace said gently, the joint finding its way back between her fingers and to her lips. “It’s okay to cry, Frankie.”

“Says Ice Queen Grace Hanson,” Frankie mocks but her smile doesn’t reach her eyes. Grace hands the joint back to Frankie and she puts it out on the corner of the cement next to them. 

“Come here,” Grace whispers as she wraps her arm around Frankie, she closes her eyes, lets her fingernails rake up and down her friends arm, ignores the hair in her face and breathes through her nose until she hears Frankies breathing even out and knows she's fallen asleep. Grace makes a mental note to send Allison a text as soon as she finds her phone to set up a time for Frankie to see Faith, and that's the last thing she remembers thinking before drifting to sleep outside while the day silently and slowly began to turn to night in front of them.


	6. Six

Grace turned over onto her side when she felt her body jolt awake in protest, her mind was foggy with sleep but her head was pounding and her body was shivering. “Fuck,” she thought to herself, “I must have fallen asleep with the window open again.” Grace slowly opened her eyes and was met with darkness, she sat up too quickly and groaned while the memories of last night came flooding back into her half-asleep brain: Frankie was sad, the patio, the blankets, the weed, the vodka, the comforting, the sleeping. 

“Frankie,” Grace whispered, placing her hand gently in the side of her friends face, trying to wake her. “Honey,” Grace tries again, a little louder this time and she shakes Frankies shoulder a little. Frankie's eyes flutter open.”We fell asleep out here, come on, let's go inside before we get attacked by bugs.”

“I’ll just stay out here, with the creatures. There's shit all over my bed anyway,” Frankie says, her voice laced with sleep as she laid her head back down on the pillow. 

“Come sleep in my bed?” Grace offers, she climbs to her feet slowly, every part of her body is screaming at her including her mind. 

“Now you’ve got my attention,” Frankie says and Grace can hear the smile on her face. “Get to stepping lady!” And, with that Frankie is up off the ground and running towards the screen door with a blanket still wrapped around her shoulders.

“No! Wait! Don’t bring that blanket in my clean bed!” Grace yells after her but Frankies already out of her line of sight. “Fuck me, what have I gotten myself into?” Grace wonders out loud as she picks up and folds the remaining two blankets from their spot on the ground but she can’t help the smile that spreads over her lips. 

Grace takes her time making her way back to Frankie and her bed. She puts their blankets and pillows away, drinks a glass of water, takes some Advil to help her head and aches, washes off her makeup, brushes her hair and changes out of her jeans and blouse into her pajamas. When she walks into her bedroom, she is not at all surprised to find Frankie sprawled out spread eagle in the middle of her bed, fast asleep thankfully with the blanket from outside laying at the edge of the bed on the floor. Grace smiles to herself as she leans down to pick up the blanket and walks it to the washer for the second time today. 

She walks back into her bedroom and closes the door behind her, Frankie had left the lamp on the left side of the bed on, on the dimmest setting. Grace scoured the room as quietly as she could in the dark for her phone, she sighed relieved when the palm of her hand came into contact with it. 11:13 AM, 12 percent. She unlocked her phone and sent a quick text to Allison, “Need to talk, can you do brunch tomorrow?” She pressed send, and set her phone on its charging pad then pulled the covers back and climbed into her bed next to Frankie. She pulled her sheet over her slim body and sunk into her friend, feeling the heat from her body. Grace felt her eyes getting heavy and already knew she would get a better nights sleep tonight, curled up next to her best friend than shes had in months despite her headache, hangover, and the body aches.

 

The next morning Grace had woken early, on her own, her head no longer pounding but to no surprise the rest of her body was. She carefully rolled over onto her back trying her hardest to not disturb Frankie, whose arm was draped around Grace and resting on the bare skin of her side where her top had ridden up in her sleep and their legs were intertwined. She felt around her nightstand and brought her phone up to her face. Grace felt the smile playing at her lips to see Allison had agreed to meet her for brunch, she wasn’t even the slightest bit upset that she had to cross town to meet Allison at what was, no doubt, the most extra place she could have chose. 

Grace strategically unwove her body from Frankies and snuck into her closet without Frankie waking. Grace kept the lights off to not disturb her and had a hard time seeing in the dimly lit conditions, she grabbed the first blouse and pair of jeans she came into contact with, then grabbed what she thought looked and felt like a matching set of bra and panties, and exited the closet, tiptoeing past Frankie and out the bedroom door to the bathroom. 

Under the hot spray of the shower, Grace felt her body start to loosen and relax and she made a mental note to take take a bath later if she still felt like shit, which she knew she would. She ran her fingers over her stiff muscles and wondered if she even remembered a time her body didn’t feel a hundred years old, thankful she could trick the eyes. Grace turned the water off and stepped out, a towel wrapped loosely around her body. She went quickly through her daily routine: blow drying her hair, applying her makeup, styling her hair, getting into her undergarments which she discovered were not matching: the bra was navy blue and the panties were black, lotioning her body, then stepping into her clothes. She had completely transformed herself by the time the bathroom door opened and she stepped out. 

Grace walked to her bedroom on light feet and peaked inside, pleased to see Frankie was still asleep and probably would remain that way until she returned. She picked her purse up off the end table in the hallway and grabbed her car keys off the hook and headed out into the warm morning air. 

“It’s good to see you!” Allison greeted, smiling wide and standing up from her seat, opening her arms to Grace.

“You don’t have to lie, and I’m just going to cut right to the point: Frankie needs to see Faith and the rest of you for that matter. This, pettiness, this fighting, it's ruining her. I’ve tried to make progress with the kids, tried to leverage with them, be professional but neither of us wants to back down,” Grace began right away as she took her seat, ignoring Allisons outstretched arms.

 

“You’re right, Faith needs her grandmothers,” Allison agreed, nodding her head and throwing Grace off guard. Her head snapped away from the wall with the wonderful looking bar back to the direction of Allison. 

“Excuse me?” Grace asked, Allison just smiled and opened her menu without seeming to catch what she said. When another moment had passed and she still didn't elaborate, Grace tried to move on. “How do you suppose we do this?”

“Eat brunch?” Allison questioned, her eyebrow raised as Grace fought rolling her eyes a hundred times over.

“Getting Frankie time with Faith!” 

“Well, Frankie can meet us at our Mommy/Baby Vegan Nutrition meeting and I won’t tell Bud!” Allison suggested, after closing her menu, and Grace looked at her with wide eyes.

“No, this is not how we repair our family, lying and deceiving is out. We’re doing this right way,” Grace told the younger woman in front of her as the waiter was approaching them. After Allison told the waiter every single thing she was allergic to, she ordered her breakfast and Grace ordered an egg white omelet with fruit and a mimosa. 

“Fine, we can do it the right way,” Allison said. “I wouldn’t like lying to Bud anyway.”

“Speaking of Bud, his half birthday is coming up, right? Why don’t you lure all the kids to a party for it, at our new apartment?”

“I could do that, but it’s tomorrow.” 

“Send out a group text now, give them our address, say its a restaurant and for them to be there at 6:30.” Grace ordered Allison as the waiter sat their food down in front of them. 

“I thought you didn’t want us knowing where you live?” Allison questioned, her mouth full of food.

“I don’t,” Grace sighed.

“And, I thought you said no lyin?” 

“I suppose I did, but,” Grace trailed off, not sure how to justify herself for this one. THe waiter placed their food in front of them and Grace began to pick at hers. 

“You sure love her,” Allison observed, and Grace felt warmth spread throughout her chest.

“She loves Faith,” Grace said, deflecting Allisons words. “So, please make this happen, I need her to be happy.” Grace told her after she finished her mimosa, she then pulled forty dollars out of her purse and sat it down next to her hardly touched breakfast. “Have a good day, Allison. I’ll see you tomorrow,” Grace said, with her hand over top of the other woman's, bidding her farewell. 

Once Grace’s was out of the confinement of the restaurant and her car door slammed behind her, she felt the anxiety she had been feeling all morning rushing out of her body with each breath. Her hands were shaking, knuckles white. “It’s all going to be okay,” Grace whispered as she placed her hands on the steering wheel and closed her eyes. She turned the key and the engine roared to life, before she backed out of her parking spot she clicked the home button on her phone to see if Frankie had texted. Nothing.

The ride home was painfully quiet but Grace was thankful for the time to think without Frankies persuasive voice booming through her head. She took the final turn and their apartment complex came into view. She parked in her usual spot, next to Frankie, then turned the engine off and headed inside. 

Grace opened the front door slowly, not wanting to disturb her sleeping roommate. She slipped her heels off at the door and set her purse down on the table in the hall by the door, and hung her keys off the hook. She tiptoed her way to the bathroom and slipped out of her clothes, folded them and set them aside to take care of later. She stepped into the shorts she had on earlier and pulled the same tee shirt over her head, then she carefully pulled her eyelashes off and set them on the counter, and washed her makeup off before making her way back to bed with Frankie. 

Grace walked into her bedroom and smiled down at Frankie, who looked to be in the same position she was in when Grace left. She pulled her side of the covers back and climbed in gently next to her sleeping friend, with her hair sprawled out in every direction. No sooner than Grace had settled, Frankie was nudging closer and her arm flung around Graces small frame, landing on her bare thigh and sending shivers up her spine. Grace let out a small sigh and closed her eyes before drifting back to sleep.

Their days in the new apartment had a familiar feel to them, Grace would work every chance she had, Frankie would avoid working. They still spent time on the beach, Frankie would wander off like she always had and not return for hours. Sometimes they wouldn’t speak all day until they both found their way back in the evenings. It was their unspoken rule: always come home before it was dark outside. And, so far both of them had obeyed. 

Grace found herself pacing the living room floor, over and over when the sun was just about to be shining brightly on the other side of the earth and Frankie hadn’t wandered home yet, and failed to answer her cell phone. 

“Frankie, I swear to god, if you’re not dead you will be when I get my hands around your neck!” Grace threatened the woman's voicemail, her back to the sliding door and failing to hear it open when a voice boomed from behind her.

“Why are you planning to choke me in what I’m forced to assume is not a sexual manner?” Frankie asked, leaning against the wall.

“You nearly gave me a heart attack! Why didn’t you answer your phone?” Grace closed the distance between them, throwing her arms around Frankie. 

“I lost it on the beach, when I was cope napping,” Frankie explained. “I think a fucking seagull took it because my snacks were also gone when I woke up.”

“Wanna talk about it over a night toke?” Grace asked, already grabbing the weed box before Frankie had answered. They walked out onto the patio and sat on their new chairs with their floral pattern cushions. Grace packed the bowl as Frankie began to talk about her day.

“First I couldn’t figure out why I was so sad, and then it came to me in my dream,” Frankie explained, as she took the freshly packed bowl from Grace and watched the older woman exhale a cloud of smoke like a pro. Graces eyebrow raised as she waited for Frankie to elaborate further. “I was dreaming a bear was chasing me, except I wasn’t me and I was never in any danger because the bear was a baby.”

Grace continued to stay silent, taking another toke, waiting patiently for the story to unravel itself and for Frankie to make sense. 

“Grace! Are you following?” 

“I’m sorry, I’m not.” Grace returned the bowl.

“Bears,” Frankie began, “symbolize motherhood. I miss the little shits, all of themand Buds half birthday is tomorrow.” Frankie took another hit and cashed the weed, then stood up. She held her hand out for Grace to take, not to help, just to hold. Grace accepted. 

Once inside, Grace made herself a martini. She walked over to the island and sat at one of the stools. She sipped at the drink before her, pondering a way to tell Frankie that the children might be here tomorrow. She didn’t want to promise her anything without a confirmation from Allison. Grace stood up with her martini and walked to Frankie’s room, the door was open but she knocked lightly anyway.

“Let's make a cake, and we can drop it off tomorrow at Buds?”

“Baking isn’t really your forte, are you sure?” Frankie asked, laughing. She had changed into pajamas, leaving Grace still in her jeans. 

“Yeah but I’m high,” Grace laughed, as Frankies eyes beamed, a silent thank you. 

Back in the kitchen, Grace was leaning on the counter with her refilled martini in hand and she was pretending to be very interested in the recipe book before her. She looked up, not at all surprised to find Frankie covered in batter, mixer in hand. Grace sauntered over to her and swiped a thin fingertip over her cheek collecting the mixture and sucking it into her mouth. 

“Mmm,” Grace popped the finger out of her mouth. “It needs to be thicker,” she criticized as Frankie stared at her, disbelieving. Grace raised an eyebrow, then stuck her finger in the bowl and raised it to Frankies mouth as if to say, “try for yourself if you don’t believe me!” 

She watched as her finger disappeared into Frankies mouth, but what came as a shock to her was the noise that sounded a lot like a moan, that escaped her throat. Her wide eyes locked with Frankie, who was busy sucking on what was once a batter covered finger and now was just a finger. Yet, she couldn’t move. The feeling of Frankie’s teeth and tongue against her long, slender digit was possibly the most erotic experience she’s had in the last year. And, that realization is what makes her yank her hand away from her friend and she retreats back to her spot a safe distance away, leaning against the counter with her martini. 

“I don’t think this looks right,” Frankie criticizes, after she put the batter into a cake pan and was hovering over the oven. Grace sets her martini down and closes the distance between them, peering down into the batter.

“Looks fine to me?” Grace dismisses with a roll of her eyes. She’d placed the cake pan into the preheated over and turned on the timer when she’s caught off guard by a hand full of leftover sloppy, wet cake batter on the side of her face. 

“Oh, its fucking on, Frances!” Grace warned, as she turned around to scope out her weapons, she crossed her arms over her chest and scowled at Frankie as the other woman doubled over with uncontrollable laughter. Grace stuck her tongue out and licked the access batter off the side of her mouth. The flour laying on the counter caught her eye and she made her move before Frankie turned back to face her. Graces hands dove into the flour and picked up all they could hold, she threw it at Frankie’s back and reached her arms around her, hands flailing and making contact with any part of her they could, smearing flour all over her dress. 

Grace reached behind her and picked up more flour with her left hand while the right remained around Frankie, attempting to keep her in place. Grace went back in, her left hand rubbing the white powder over Frankies chest, her palm raking over an erect nipple. Graces mind went white with arousal, her thighs pressed together and her breathing speed up while the rest of her body froze. 

“Paybacks a bitch!” Frankie screamed, howling with laughter while she spun around and pushed Grace gently back into the island. Frankies hands were sticky with batter but she picked up handfuls of flour anyway and began throwing them at Grace. 

Frankie’s body was pressed against Graces, her body still screaming arousal, impossibly louder now. She prayed Frankie couldn’t distinguish the difference between begging to get off and being out of shape. Grace had to leave her mind behind, something Frankie had taught her how to do, and go on autopilot otherwise she would be in the beginning stages of an anxiety attack right now. 

“You're only turned on by this because you haven’t had sex in forever,” she told herself every time the thought began creeping back into her mind as she laughed with Frankie, blowing flour from her hand toward her friend. When she allowed herself to actually look at the woman in front of her, she really burst out laughing, her mind allowing her to forget the other stuff for a moment. She pointed at Frankie and doubled over at how ridiculous she looked. 

“You look pretty funny too,” Frankie replied, unable to keep the laughter from lacing her words. The timer to the oven began to beep behind them, and Grace instructed her to take the cake out to cool and they would frost it in the morning.

“I need to shower. Thanks for a fun night,” Grace said, as she lingered by the door before closing the distance between them once more. “It’s all going to be okay,” She reassured the woman before her, putting her white coated hand on Frankies shoulder, squeezing gently. Frankie brought her hand up to rest atop of Graces and she looked into her eyes. 

Grace held her gaze and found her arousal sneaking back up on her, catching her off guard. She broke eye contact, and her eyes traveled down Frankie’s nose to rest on her friends plump lips. “If you just lean in a little, you could put all your curiosities to bed, literally,” Her mind whispered at her and just as she was about to give in, Frankie pulled away. 

“Good night, Grace,” She smiled, leaving Grace alone in the kitchen to turn off the oven behind her and wonder what the fuck just happened. She sat down on her stool and gulped the rest of her martini as sweat formed on the back of her neck. Grace stood up, mentally kicking herself at the amount of cleaning she would have to do in the morning. She walked to her room, and stripped her clothes off as soon as she reached the confinement of her four walls. 

She stood in her bra and panties, door wide open, flour covering her her arms, face and chest. Grace walked over to her night stand, checked her phone, smiling ear to ear when she read Allisons confirmation text, she then opened the top drawer and let her fingers toy over her vibrator. Her body was begging for relief, arousal painfully tugging at her from all angles, reminding her how long it’d been since she last had an orgasm. But her mind remained firm, not clouded by her pulsing clitoris. “If you do this, you make it real. And, it’s not real,” Grace repeated to herself for the entire length of her cold shower until she crawled in bed, her body still begging to get off, until she was drifting to sleep and she was almost positive that she actually believed it.


	7. Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey y’all, sorry it took me so long to post this chapter, i’ve been super busy and had the WORST case of writers block. i’m sorry it’s short and shitty, and i didnt reread it for errors, so don’t hate me :(

Grace woke in the early hours of the morning, her mind foggy with sleep. She tried to focus on her breathing but her imagination was busy picking up where her dream left off. 

Grace is shoved back against the wall.

Her breathing is quickly the furthest thing from her mind. Her stiff hands work fast to rid herself of her pajamas. She tosses her sweats and panties onto the floor, and doesn't bother removing her tee shirt.

Her shaky fingers rake through thick, voluminous hair as a hard thigh nudges her legs apart. 

She reaches to her right and opens the drawer without opening her eyes. She makes quick work of pulling out the jar of lube and her vibrator. She throws them on the bed next to her. 

Grace reaches down between them with unsteady fingers, she unbuttons her jeans and untucks her blouse.

Her tongue feels heavy in her mouth and she presses it against the back of her teeth while she opens the jar beside her and dips her slender fingers inside. 

Grace closes her eyes as she feels cold fingers scrape against her exposed skin, a sigh escapes her lips as teeth gently bite her collarbone. 

“Oh, fuck Frankie,” Grace moans as two lube covered fingers meet the place she needs them most. Her mind rings alarm bells at what she just let slip, what she’s just made real, but she’s too far gone to let her fantasy slip away. 

Graces back is still against the wall as Frankie plants small kisses down the length of her body, before resting on her knees before her. 

Graces fingers work fast below the safety of her sheets, her vibrator long forgotten. 

Grace’s head slams back into the wall behind her as Frankie works her tongue between her long, toned legs, one hand is on her dresser for support, the other buried in her friends salt and pepper mane. She sees stars behind her eyelids as she feels herself come. 

“Fuck,” Grace mumbles again when her orgasm subsides, her unlubed hand resting on her sweaty forehead, she feels pain in the back of her neck and realizes she actually banged her head against the headboard when she came. She begins to laugh and then focuses on her breathing and presses her eyes tightly closed before throwing her sheets off her and getting up out of bed. “Good morning, Grace,” she whispers. 

Before leaving her room, Grace throws on her robe and grabs her dirty clothes to throw into the washer on her way to the bathroom. She’s relieved when she walks past Frankies room and sees her still asleep in her bed. 

 

Just as Grace is hair spraying the last few flyaway hairs into place, she hears Frankie call for her from in the kitchen. She pops the collar of her white, button down shirt and smooths her hands down her stomach, sighing deeply before opening the bathroom door and stepping out to see Frankie for the first time today. 

Grace rounds the corner of the dining room and enters the kitchen, her heels announcing her arrival before she says a word.

“Does this look right to you?” Frankie asks, with her back to Grace, her arms out to her sides and flowy clothes hanging off her body.

“Last time I heard those words, you flashed me your tits,” Grace replies, her tone flirty and she surprises herself. Frankie turns around, grinning from ear to ear and makes her way to Grace, placing her hand on her shoulder. The contact simultaneously sends a shiver down Grace’s spine and a white heat up her chest and brings her back to the four walls of her bedroom this morning, she bites on the inside of her lip gently.

“Oh, Grace. I could flash you them again but I’m afraid you might like it too much,” Frankie laughs as she trails her fingers down Graces arm and grabs her hand, dragging her over to the counter where the cake sat. “I’m talking about the cake, does it look fine?”

Grace looked down at the cake, Frankie had used her artistic skills to decorate the edible suicide rectangle in flowers of all colors and it looked amazing. “Wow, this is one of the best cakes I’ve ever seen!” 

“How's the frosting?” Frankie asked, shoving a pink icing coated finger in Graces face. It crosses Graces mind briefly how this is the second time in twenty four hours that they’ll have had one anothers fingers in their mouth, and she reaches her hand out to Frankies and grabs her wrist, guiding Frankies finger into her mouth. Grace holds Frankies gaze and swirls her tongue around Frankies bent finger, she lets out a hum of appreciation when she tastes the frosting. Grace tastes salt on the pad of Frankies finger and she gently bites down. Frankie’s eyes go a bit wider than normal and she lets out a squeak. There’s a knock on their front door, and she quickly pulls her finger away from the confinements of Graces mouth. 

“Tastes good,” Grace smiles, still shocked at her level of boldness before turning and walking out of the kitchen to answer the door. She opened the door to find Bud, Allison holding Faith, Coyote, Mallory, and Brianna on the other side. 

“Frankie doesn’t know I asked you guys to come, so we’re going to surprise her and for the day we’re all getting along. Everyone fucking got it?” Grace asked, waiting for each of them to nod in agreement before opening her front door the rest of the way and letting the kids in. 

Allison and Faith went straight in to look for Frankie with Coyote and Bud following closely behind, leaving the girls lingering in the entryway with their mother. Grace smiled when she heard Frankie shriek with laughter from the kitchen, and she immediately knew she could handle a million hostile lunches with their kids to make Frankie happy. She wrapped the girls in a quick hug, feeling multiple emotions raising in her body and threatening to spill over.

“Look, I’m not backing down and what you guys did was wrong. Playing Frankie and I like that, this isn’t the fucking Parent Trap!” Grace said, slightly raising her voice before quickly getting her emotions back in check. “I bought a lot of vodka and pre made a couple pitchers of martinis, we can all hash it out a different day. I meant what I said about us getting along today, it's all for Frankie. So, do it for her if you don’t want to do it for me,” Grace said before turning to walk into the kitchen. 

Grace entered the kitchen to find Allison, Bud and Coyote sitting at the island and Frankie holding Faith bouncing her on her hip, singing her some made up song. Frankie looked up at her and immediately closed the distance between them. She lifted her hand to Graces cheek, and then wrapped her in a hug with Faith smushed in the middle. 

“You did all this for me?” Frankie asked, her arm still around Grace. Grace couldn’t see her eyes, but could hear the tears in them.

“I knew how much it meant to you,” Grace whispered in her ear before placing a soft kiss on her cheek and then one on Faiths, who had her head resting against Frankies shoulder and was just about sleeping. “Frankie, go nap with her in your bed, shes sleeping on you,” Grace suggested. “We’ll hold down the fort out here.” 

Grace watched as Frankie carried the little girl out of the kitchen, Frankie paused before exiting the room, to turn back and smile at Grace once more. Grace smiled back, happier than she had been in months.

“Mom, wanna smoke with me?” Brianna asked from behind Grace, already waiting at the back door with a joint in her hand. She nodded her head before following her out to the patio. 

Grace sat down in a chair and lit the joint, she passes it to Brianna when she noticed her daughter had also brought them out martinis. “Don’t you think you should have asked your sister to join?” 

“Eh, she wanted to talk to Allison or something,” Brianna said shrugging her shoulders and passing the joint back.

“Brianna, this might be the weed talking but is it okay if I ask you about something a little personal? It's about a dream,” Grace asked, after she took a large sip of her martini.

Brianna took a long drag from the joint, before exhaling and answering. “Okay, let me take a guess. You had a sex dream about your best friend and you are scared of your feelings?”

“Brianna! Grace scolded, as she felt heat rise up her chest and into her face, she took a sip of her martini, the liquid instantly calming her.

“Tell me I’m wrong,” Brianna challenged.

“We’re not talking about this!” Grace answered, her palms sweaty and her mind blurry around the edges. 

“Mom, but you brought it up!” 

“And, I was wrong to think we could have an adult conversation about this. I should have known,” Grace shook her head as she stood to go back inside.

“Wait,” Brianna pleaded, “I know you have feelings for her, I see the way you look at her. I just didn’t think you’d ever actually realize or acknowledge them. You’re good at denying yourself.” 

Grace stopped, her back to her daughter, eyes filling with tears. 

“Does she know?” Brianna asked, suddenly behind Grace, her hand on Graces bony shoulder. And Grace isn't sure if it’s for comfort or to keep her from running away. 

“She is my best friend, Brianna, that hasn't changed.”

“No, but your feelings for her have, mom,” Brianna said, squeezing her shoulder and wrapping her other arm around her mother.

Grace placed her hand on Briannas and then shrugged out of her embrace, tears escaping her eyes and panic rising in her tightly wound body that was now infused with marijuana and alcohol. 

“I can’t do this honey, I need to think, I need some air,” Grace said as she set off towards the beach, towards the setting sun, towards the ocean that brought her and Frankie together in the first place.


	8. Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you guys have stuck with me this far through my shitty story, THANK YOU so so so much! yall are the real MVP's and i love you. now we're more than halfway through this story now! YAY. alright, happy thanksgiving for those of you who celebrate it

Some hours later Grace found herself further down the dimly lit beach than she’d ever like to venture on her own without her phone. The sun rapidly sinking under the horizon is making this the second time in one week that the rule of coming home before dark has been abused. Grace sighed deeply out of her nose as she dug her toes with light pink painted nails a little further into the cold, wet sand and wrapped her beige cardigan tighter around her fragile, shivering frame, that and her tight blue jeans being the only things protecting her from the chilly night air of La Jolla. 

She was about to rise to her feet and leave but the moon caught her eye and she laid back on the cold, soft sand, no doubt getting more in her hair and she would have to scrub it out before she even thought about going into the house, but what was the point of an outdoor shower if she never took advantage of it?

Grace closed her eyes tightly and sucked a deep breath into her lungs through her nose before exhaling and looking up at the moon with new eyes. “Goddess, I know we don’t talk, never have. But I’m friends -- well, I’m something, with one of your friends. I didn’t even know you before Frankie but I could really use you right now. I’m scared and everything is sort of starting to make sense, not that I didn’t get it to some extent before but I think she’s just making me so I can’t ignore it. But the scariest thing of all is I don’t want to ignore it anymore.” Grace stopped to catch her breath. “I’m so scared to hurt her, like I’ve hurt everything in my life. She’s the most delicate, beautiful sculpture I could ever lay my hands on but at the same time she isn’t fragile at all, she is full of life and love and I know I’m not deserving of that love.” Grace finally let out the tears that she’d been trying to hold in since her talk with Brianna, and they came down like rain. Her sobs were heavy, booming out of her chest like thunder, shaking her whole body while she laid on the beach. 

“I am not deserving at all but I know I won’t survive losing her again. I would do anything for her, anything. And, that scares me and my feelings scare me and I don’t know how to talk about it with her because I don’t even understand it myself but I know I want to. I want to understand and I want to talk to her but everytime I see her all I want to do is push her back into the wall and kiss her like I know she's never been kissed because she’s never been kissed by someone who loves her as much as I do.” Grace sobbed, openly and not quietly, so far the opposite of quiet that she even didn’t hear someone come up behind her and sit down next to her. 

“I know I don’t know you,” said a young, beautiful woman with long blonde hair that was pulled back in a ponytail and thick eyelashes and big, brown eyes who couldn’t be more than thirty years old, startling Grace. “But I think this Frankie person is very lucky to have you.” She placed her hand on Grace’s shoulder and helped her sit up. “We, my fiance and I, live in the same apartments as you, we’ve seen you a few times and have been meaning to say hi. I’m Samantha,” She said, holding her hand out for Grace, Grace shook it.

Grace took in her active apparel in the dark with squinted eyes. “I’m Grace. I’m sorry I interrupted your run.” She stood up and began to walk back toward their building, mentally kicking herself knowing she had a long way to go in the dark, alone.

“I’ll walk you back, if you want. I could use some company, and I’d love to hear more about this Frankie character she seems pretty amazing,” Samantha said, jogging to catch up with Grace. Grace looked back at her and smiled while wiping a tear from her cheek. 

Grace sighed and wrapped her arms around herself before looking back over at Samantha, “I don’t even know where to start.”

“Wherever you like,” Samantha smiled back at her.

“Frankie is the most free spirited, wonderful, painfully annoying creature I’ve ever met,” Grace started, making herself chuckle. “I would have loved to have known her as a child. As a teenager, or even just earlier in life, under different circumstances. Maybe then I wouldn’t have been so cruel to myself, but mostly to her…” Grace’s sentence drifted to nothing but her thoughts as she stared off into the ocean that brought them together.

Samantha watched Grace breathe in and out, not wanting to pressure her to share more than she felt comfortable with. She watched a tear fall from Grace’s eye and trail down her cheek then land on her cardigan. Samantha reached out and placed her hand on top of Graces, offering silent comfort. 

“She is the best thing that’s ever happened to me, with her hippie mindset, eucalyptus cough drops, homemade shampoo, never once picking up after herself, edible eating, pot smoking, convincing me to indulge in del taco and ice cream in the middle of the night, tie dying various articles of clothing in my bathtub despite me telling her not to, and then washing them in the dishwasher.” Grace pauses and takes a deep breath, “I absolutely can’t stand more than half the shit she does, but I wouldn’t change a thing about her. She is the definition of perfect and I just hate that I wasted so much time being mean to her when I could have been making her…” Grace trails off, lost in thought about all the things she now realizes she had wanted to do to Frankie all along, her facade was just a defense mechanism for not wanting to accept what she really craved, who she really was. 

“Has anything happened between the two of you?” 

Grace’s face falls and for a slight second Samantha fears Grace might burst into tears, but as soon as the face appeared, it’s gone. “Um, no. Nothing has changed between us except every time she touches me I feel electricity coarse through my body and my mouth goes dry and I have to fight the urge to take her in my arms and…” Grace runs her hand up her body and toys with her necklace and clears her throat with a slight chuckle. “Yeah, nope, nothings happened. Just that and my dreams that get more explicit each night,” Grace admits, and is taken aback by her own trust with this stranger. How is it so easy for her to talk to this woman she just met but she bring herself to tell Frankie anything meaningful? 

“I think I’ve always had these feelings for her deep down, I just masked them with hate and ignorance because I knew that wasn’t something I should feel. I knew I shouldn’t be wondering how beautiful the rest of her skin was beneath her flowy dresses, and been thinking about if her tongue was good at anything other than spewing bullshit that didn’t make sense, or how I would wish she’d let me dress her, like actually strip her and dress her from head to toe. That should have been a clue, but I never let myself think of it as anything except hatred.” Grace fell silent, she looked up to see her apartment coming into view.

“So, what's changed?”

“In the last five years a lot, in the last five months: even more. We lost our house and moved into this tiny apartment and I find myself wanting to do anything that will make her smile, even if it means sacrificing my happiness,” Grace told Samantha. 

“It sounds like she’s lucky to have someone like you.” They stopped outside the entrance to hers and Frankie's patio. “And, Grace, it took me years to come out but when I met my Frankie, I knew she was the reason nothing else had ever made sense. Some people never find that, so even if it took longer for you it’s still better than the alternative.” The young woman squeezed Graces hand and told her goodbye. 

“Would you like to bring your fiance and come over for drinks sometime?” Grace asked, smiling.

“I would love to,” Samantha smiled before turning and walking away.

Grace stepped into the privacy of their patio and peeled off her jeans, cardigan, and tank top, leaving her in matching black lace bra and panties. She grabbed a towel from tote they kept outside for this exact occasion, let the water warm. Deciding at the last second that there was no point in rinsing off wearing her designer lingerie, she rid herself of it. She threw the discarded garments into the pile with the rest of her clothes before stepping under the hot water and rinsing the day out of her hair and off her body. Before she allowed herself to get too comfortable and someone saw her, Grace turned off the water wrapped the small towel around her body then walked in through the backdoor, not caring that she was dripping water everywhere. She threw her clothes into the laundry basket by the sliding door in the living room and watched as Frankie paced back and forth with her back to Grace. 

“Frankie?” Grace said lightly, not wanting to startle the other woman. 

“Thank sweet mother of Jesus!” Frankie screamed when she turned to find Grace standing in the doorway. She sprung toward Grace and wrapped her in a tight, messy hug that no doubt lasted longer than a normal hug despite the fact that Grace was dressed in only a towel and soaking wet. Grace let her wet fingers rake through Frankie’s thick hair and she rested her head on the other woman's shoulder, face nuzzled against the soft fabric of Frankie’s poncho and fought the strong urge to run her tongue up the exposed skin of her throat, she felt the familiar hum of arousal course through her veins and felt her nipples erect against Frankie’s. Frankie pulled back with a smile, giggling but Grace could see the tears in her eyes.

“I, uh,” Grace cleared her throat, half of her mind focusing on Frankie’s tears and half her mind focusing on her arousal. “I’m really tired and I need to shower. I’m sorry, it's been a day,” Grace apologized and excused herself to the bathroom where once the door closed behind her, she let her body fall slack against it, breathing shakily as she combed a hand through her own hair.

An hour had passed, or what Grace had assumed was an hour had passed, when she heard a knock on the bathroom door followed by Frankie's voice asking to come in.

“Um,” Grace panicked slightly, knowing she couldn’t hold Frankie off forever and also knowing the amount of bubbles left in the lukewarm water were hardly covering her body. She was about to pour more bubble bath in when the bathroom door opened and Frankie walked in with a hand covering her eyes.

“Don’t worry, I won’t look if you don’t want me to,” Frankie promised, followed by a laugh. There it was again, that teasing, testing, asking? Grace watched as Frankie felt her way around the bathroom with the hand not covering her eyes. “I know this isn’t your prefered place for conversations,” Frankie kicked her foot into the side of the cabinet, “Fuck me!” She shrieked, before her hand came into contact with the edge of the tub and she sat down, still covering her eyes.

“For fuck sakes, Frankie, uncover your eyes before you kill yourself! You know your coordination is shit,” Grace told her, with a dry mouth and sober mind, more nervous than she had been in maybe her whole life. 

Frankie slowly uncovered her eyes, and looked in the direction away from Grace and the tub, she fixated on her painting on the wall. “Are you okay? Like really okay? Because Brianna told me you were really upset but wouldn’t tell me about what and then you didn’t come home literally all day,” Frankie said, only stopping for air before starting again, she let her head turn toward Grace a little. “And, it scared the shit out of me, you can always talk to me. About anything, you know that, right?” Frankie asked, finally looking Grace in the eyes.

“Yes, Frankie,” Grace started, taking a deep breath and lifting her hand out of the water placing it to rest on top of Frankie’s. Grace watched as Frankie’s eyes traveled from her eyes to her mouth and continued down ever so slowly to rest where the murky water began. Grace watched as Frankies pupils dilated and her eye color became slightly darker. She watched as her bottom lip disappear between her teeth, watched as Frankie’s breathing change along with her own. 

Grace watched all these things happen in what appeared to be slow motion and she felt her own body reacting to them. Felt the goose bumps raise on her skin, felt her nipples tighten, felt her thighs press together all beneath the slight protection of the water. 

“Frankie?” Grace asked, her voice deeper than she meant it to be, more sensual. She sat up slightly and reached out to Frankie with her other hand and trailed it up her arm leaving drops of water on the thin fabric. She watched as Frankies mouth fell open slightly at her touch, her neck went slack, and her eyes closed. 

“I--can’t be in here,” Frankie said coming back to her senses, meeting Grace’s eye briefly once again before she stood up and fled from the bathroom, leaving Grace alone and shaking from more than just the cold.


	9. Nine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am so sorry, its been so long since ive updated, i have had the worst writers block and ugh. but here i am with this short installment for yall :)

Back in the safety and darkness of her bedroom, Grace let the conversation with Frankie in the bathroom play over and over in her head. Her still wet blonde locks stick to the hot skin of her neck, she fills her martini glass with straight vodka for the second time and smiles when a mouthful of the clear liquid slides down her throat and seems to numb her body, her feelings, her brain almost instantaneously. Her long fingers toy with the edge of her phone, while she stares down at it, debating whether or not text to Frankie. Whether or not to go to Frankie’s room, to sort this out right now. In the end, her mind loses the battle to her fingers and before she knew what was happening, her phone is in her hands and unlocked, she’s busy typing and erasing message after message.

Frankie? 

Send. She watches as the blue message delivers, watches as the delivered turns to read, waits as the bubbles pop up before disappearing, then reappear. A sigh escapes her nose while her plump, dry lips remain pressed firmly together. Grace’s mind works overtime, worrying that nothing would be the same between them ever again. Wonders how she can take back all the things that got them here, because fuck, she’ll take it all back if that means Frankie will take her back. Back in any sense of the word, back to normal, back to hating her, back to anything that isn’t silence. Back to anything that meant still being a part of her life. When what felt like an eternity had passed and Frankie still hadn’t replied and Grace realized she was getting way ahead of herself, she unlocked her phone yet again, this time with shaky fingers and dialed Robert’s number.

“Grace? Is everything okay?” Robert picked up on the third ring, voice hoarse and thick with sleep.

“For the most part,” She cleared her throat. “I, uh, just wanted to ask you something,” She waited for Robert to answer, but he remained silent. “When you realized you had feelings for Sol, you know, gay feelings, big, gay, can’t-live-without-tasting-your-lips-on-mine-feelings, were you worried about telling him and things never being able to be the same again?” Gace asked, eyes pressed firmly shut, her words coming out rushed.

“I worried that he wouldn’t share my feelings but there was this…” Robert paused on the other side of the phone. “Are you sure you want to hear this?”

“I’m the one who asked,” Grace replied, not sounding as sure of herself as she’d hoped. She took a drink of her vodka, hoping for the numb feeling like she always did. “You were saying?”

“There was this tension between us, I don’t really know how to explain it because it wasn’t sexual, not completely anyway. And, I knew that if I didn’t tell him how I felt, even if it meant never going back to the way things were, I would have to continue lying to myself and somehow, Grace, that was worse.” 

Grace stopped pacing and felt as though she had been punched in the stomach as she listened to Robert. She struggled to get her breathing under control.

“Thank you, I know that probably wasn’t easy to talk about, and with me of all people for fucks sake.” 

“I only wish we’d had all these conversations sooner. Wanna tell me what brought on this particular one though?” Robert asked, his now voice mixed with concern as Grace toyed with the framed picture on her dresser.

“Just something I was curious about,” Grace sighed, wondering if Robert would press her more on the subject.

“Grace?” 

“Yeah?” She answered, somewhat reluctantly. 

“She might surprise you,” Robert whispered and even though Grace isn’t the one with bad ears, she’s afraid she heard him but she is more afraid she heard him right. 

“Goodnight, Robert. I’m sorry I woke you.” She hangs up before he responds and the tears that blurred her vision for the entirety of their conversation begin to trickle down her cheeks. She unlocks her phone and sighs when she sees Frankie has not responded. 

Grace sets her phone down on her dresser and shrugs her robe over her lanky shoulders before stepping out of her room and making her way down the hall. 

Frankie is laying on her bed when she hears a faint knock on her completely open door behind her. 

“Yes?” She answers, without lifting her head off the pillow.

“Can we talk about what happened?” Grace asks, Frankie can feel her energy radiating toward her. 

“What’s there to talk about? Why don’t we just ignore it like we do everything else. It’s your specialty,” Frankie sighs, and waits for a response. When she doesn’t get one, she turns over onto her back and looks over at Grace who looks like she's just been slapped. Then a second later, its replaced with rage.

“You’re right, excuse the fuck out of me for thinking we could have an adult conversation about our feelings, Frances. My mistake, it won’t happen again,” Graces nostrils flare and a blush creeps up neck. She sticks her long finger out to Frankie and opens her mouth to yell at her, but stops short when she sees Frankie inching her way off the bed. Graces mouth goes dry as Frankie closes the distance between them. Frankie leaves a few inches between them, and places her hand on the door.

“You’re right, it won’t happen again. Take your alcohol induced feelings somewhere else,” Frankie whispers, and Grace catches a glimpse of the tears in her eyes before the door is promptly pushed closed, forcing Grace the rest of the way out of the bedroom. 

Grace lets her body go slack against the wood of the door and she slides down it, her hips protesting as soon as she hits the hard floor. Her hands come into her hair and the tears fall free for the second time tonight. Is that what this is about? Frankie thinking this, all of this, is the result of too many vodka shots? 

“Frankie?” Grace shouts through the door. “I’m not drunk.”

“It’s the only time you act like this, towards me,” Frankie shouts back and Grace feels as though her heart is being squeezed in her chest. 

“I’ll dump it all out, Frankie, I promise.” And, with that, Grace is peeling herself off the floor so fast, with tears still wet on her cheeks in search of all the vodka in their tiny house that she didn’t even hear Frankie respond.


	10. Ten

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahhhh guys!!! i had so much fun writing this chapter and i hope yall like it. im going to up the rating on this story because it could become mature at any time now :) enjoy

Grace is in the bathroom when Frankie hears the universal chime of an iPhone coming from somewhere in the kitchen. Her hands instinctively fly to her breasts, as if her phone might be somehow be magically hidden somewhere between them and she finds herself laughing at the insanity of it all. “First of all,” she thinks, “how the fuck would it stay in place without a bra?”

When the phone doesn’t stop ringing, she gets up from her spot on the stool in the dining room--that isn’t really a dining room at all, more of just their mutual work spaces--in front of her easel to go search for it. She’s halfway across the room when she spots Graces phone, face down laying on the counter next to the coffee maker, and Frankie wonders if it’s been there since this morning when she had her coffee, alone. She glances out the big window above the sink, no she didn’t lose track of time, the sun is beginning to set. “Had Grace really left her phone sit there all day? Well, it’s not like we’re spending much time talking since I freaked out on her for the vodka thing and the bathtub thing,” Her mind is screaming at her. 

Frankie has always been the curious type, so it was no surprise when her eager hands had flipped Grace’s phone over, she told herself it was just to make sure it wasn’t an emergency, one of the kids, one of their ex husbands, which was true, but what was more true was the fact that Frankie was pure nosey. Who was Grace talking to? A man? Or, worse yet: a woman. What she was surprised by was that fact that she was now her eye to eye with the name of one of the only people she truly despised in this world: Nick Skullcap. Frankie had no intention of answering the phone call, not until she knew it was him. Now curiosity was flowing deep in her body, her mind running wild with possibilities: none of which she was a fan of. 

“What the fuck do you want?” She greeted him, her nostrils flaring. 

“Well, it's good to hear from you too, kooky!” Nick joked, no hints of anger or aragence in his tone and Frankie wondered why he was in such a good mood. Was he hoping to get in Grace’s pants again? “Over my dead body,” Frankie’s mind is screaming. “I was actually calling to talk to Grace, is she around? Did you lose your phone again and take hers?” 

“Can’t say the same. She’s not available. Yes, but no,” Frankie answered, sticking right to the point for maybe the first and only time in her life. “Look, what do you want?”

“I called to tell Grace, but while I’ve got you here I just want to say, I know Grace never loved me like she loved you but God, I would have spent my life trying to get her to. Please, don't make me regret giving her up for you, Frankie,” Nick breathed into the phone and Frankie thought she was having some sort of weird dream.

“Wait, I thought Grace broke up with you?” She questioned, gears turning in her head.

“I broke things off with her because I see the way she looks at you, and I see the way she looks at me. There was never any competition, it was always you,” He tells her, Frankie feels tears in her eyes. It couldn’t have been just the vodka, she thinks. And before she had time to respond, Nick is talking in her ear again. “Since I don’t think you’re going to let me talk to her, would you tell Grace that if you guys are sure you don’t want the house back, I’m going to sell it. The paperwork is all ready, all I need is the okay from you and Grace,” Nick said nonchalantly and Frankie felt as if she had been punched in the stomach, all the air was gone from her lungs and she gripped onto the edge of the counter with her free hand, as her occupied hand let the phone fall from her grasp. 

Once Frankie had pulled herself together enough to bend over, retrieve the phone from the floor, and end the call with Nick without another word she took off in the direction of the bathroom at a speed she wasn’t sure her body take her at this point.

“Grace Hanson!!” Frankie yelled as she flung the bathroom door open with all her might, it occuring to her as an afterthought that Grace might actually have been standing behind it. She could see the shadow of her friend--no, not just friend, but not quite something she felt confident enough to distinguish--through the thin, white shower curtain. Her breath caught in her throat at the sight of the shadow, pert breasts slightly raised from the rest of the shadow, arms above head, washing her hair. “Yep, definitely not friend,” Frankie thought. When Grace finished her task, clearly not in any hurry, she poked her head out from the side of the curtain and Frankie’s breath caught in her throat for the second time in the last minute: Grace with wet hair sticking to her neck, makeup long gone, slim shoulders making their way into view was a sight to see, one Frankie realizes she would like to see more often. For a moment she forgets why she's mad in the first place and the urge to reach out and caress the older woman's face is the only thing she can think about. Then another thought pops into her head.

“Didn’t you already shower today?” Frankie asks, distracted. “Like twice?” She adds and when she looks at Graces face, she sees the color rising up her cheeks. 

“Um, yeah,” Grace answered, her voice deep and she began to nervously toy with her wet strand of short hair.

“Why? Do you not want to be around me that much that you have resorted to taking three showers day?” Frankie asked, genuinely hurt but knowing she was jumping to conclusions. 

“No, Frankie. It’s just that since I dumped all the vodka down the drain four long fucking days ago, it’s been very hard for me and you haven’t been around much so I needed a different distraction from the headaches, and the tremors, and the irritability. Just from everything.”

“And, your solution to a distraction was to excessively shower?” Frankie questioned, her eyebrows arching together in confusion.

“Um, not exactly,” Grace answered, still toying with her hair. When Frankie’s only response was raising an eyebrow, Grace spoke again. “Look, with all that’s going on between us right now I don’t know what is going to be crossing a line with you.”

“Grace, you can tell me anything. Always. A fight won’t change that,” Frankie said, reaching a hand out a touch Grace’s shoulder, then thought better of it and lowered it back down to her side with a little laugh. 

“My solution wasn’t excessive showers, it's been excessive masturbating,” Grace says, not looking Frankie in the eye, almost like she's embarrassed, but Frankie knows that’s not the case. This is uncharted territory between them, and they both know it. The strangled noise Frankie makes helps remind them, as if it’s not the thing on both of their minds, the thing in the air between them.

“Three times a day?” Frankie husks, and her voice cracks. She feels sweat forming on the small of her back, she mentally kicks herself for wearing so many layers and she's suddenly very aware of how hot and steamy the small bathroom is. 

“No, not everyday. Just when nothing else seems to help,” Grace answers and she feels a shift in the atmosphere of the room, the anger is suddenly gone and replaced with a different form of tension.

“And, it helps?” 

Grace sighs and readjusts the thin shower curtain covering her body. “For a little while, the nights are the hardest I think.” 

“What do you think about,” Frankie pauses. “During.” Even though Grace felt the tension in the room, Frankie’s boldness surprised her and her head snapped towards the other woman. She finds Frankie with her hands gripping the counter so hard that her knuckles are white and her eyes are pressed closed. 

“Frankie,” Grace whispers, “You can’t do this to me. This, this, toying. The pushing me away for days and then bursting into the bathroom, asking me what I think about when I msaturbate. It’s not fair,” A single tear slides down Graces cheek and she's glad Frankie isn’t looking at her so she can wipe it away unnoticed. 

“And, what you’re doing to me is?” Frankie shots back, her hands still holding a death grip on the counter but now her eyes are open. 

“I have tried to be nothing but honest with you about everything, about whatever the fuck this is! I dumped out all my vodka for you! To show you that I am serious, that I’ll do whatever the fuck you want me to because I can’t live without you!” Grace screams back, her words surprising herself and Frankie looks at her, also shocked then as soon as it appeared, its replaced with rage. 

“You told Nick we didn’t want the fucking house!” Frankie yells, eyes burning with fire, hands shaking with anger as she tried not to get distracted by Grace’s wet, naked state and the words she just let slip. She can’t live without me, her mind screamed, distracting her. 

“No,” Grace lets her head fall into her hand that's not busy holding the shower curtain. “I told him that you and I needed to talk it over and I’d let him know but in case you hadn’t noticed we haven’t really been talking lately,” Grace replied, her tone cool and collected, nothing like it was mere seconds ago. 

“So, can we talk?” 

“Now? While I’m still naked? Is that the best idea, Frankie? If you remember the last time I was naked around you is the reason we’re not fucking talking in the first place!” Grace replied again, her sober mind thinking for the both of them. 

“I think I can handle anything after we just talked about your excessive masturbating. But, you’re right. It is distracting me.”

Grace chuckles and Frankie knows it’s the irony that she is distracted by anything. “Will you hand me a towel and my robe?” Grace asks as she shut the water off and stuck her hand out of the shower, waiting. Once she handed them to Grace, Frankie watched as the shadow wrapped the robe around her skinny, wet body, stepped out of the shower, and toweled her hair off. “Okay, lets talk,” Grace said, her voice that was so full of confidence before now was hardly more than a whisper. 

“Nick called, wanted to know if we were sure we didn’t want the house. Grace, I want the house! That is where we went from enemies to--to--” Frankie stopped, stuttering over what to characterise them as.

“Enemies to what?” Grace asked, eyes brighter than they had been in days. “What the fuck are we, Frankie?” She sighed. 

“I don’t know,” Frankie whispered, and all the memories of their time together came flooding back to her: enemies, acquaintances, friends, business partners, best friends, say yes nights, floor people, balloon people, drinking buddies, stoners, a shoulder to cry on, a hand to hold, a kiss goodnight, an arm draped across a body, promises, a forehead kiss that lasts longer than it should, lingering touches, for sale signs, blue buttons, whispers spoken in the darkness. 

“I need you to tell me because I just want you, Frankie,” Grace said, her voice low and her eyes searching Frankie’s. She reached her hand out to grab Frankie’s.

“I need time, Grace.” Frankie took Grace’s hand and held her eye.

“We don’t have much of that left,” Grace whispered, pulling her in closer. Her arms wrapped around the shorter woman and she inhaled the scent of her hair. 

“I want the beach house,” Frankie said, and Grace squeezed her tighter. “And, I want you,” Frankie added so low that Grace wasn’t sure that she even said it or if it was her imagination.

Grace pulled back and looked Frankie in the eyes. “If you want it, I’ll tell Nick.”

Frankie looked at her, puzzled. “Wait, so you really don’t want the house? Grace, everything happened there!” Grace watched her eyes fill with panic and Grace felt her body run cold while her heart began to ache for the woman in front of her.

“I know so much happened there, but look at all that’s happened here!’ Grace fought to keep her voice steady. “The beach house means as much to me as it does to you, but could we really ever go back there with the way things are now? Every night you running to your studio, me up the stairs to my room? The beach house was us when we were different people. Do you want to go back to that?” Grace asked, she knows what shes asking: do you really want to go back to being just friend? And she knows she should just spit the words out, but something inside her is holding it back, telling her no. Her mind spiraling with emotions and fears, wondering what she would do if Frankie chose the house and their old life, over her and this new one they’re building together.

“I guess I always just imagined we’d go back there, but you’re right. It wouldn’t feel right, going back. And, Grace?”

Grace looked up from her shaky hands, thankful that Frankie was hearing her out and understood that she didn’t want to go back to how they were before. Back to being just friends. “Mmm,” She hummed in response, not trusting her voice to not betray her.

“Thank you, for dumping the vodka out. I didn’t mean to make you feel like you could never drink because I know it’s the one thing you allow yourself, the one thing you love, but I just couldn’t shake the idea that what was happening between us was the result of three too many martinis,” Frankie told her, resting against the counter. 

“The one thing I love you, sober or drunk. Vodka never changed my feelings, it might have made me bolder, made me less afraid, but it never changed my feelings. But I’m realizing now that I don’t need that liquid courage to make me stronger, less afraid, what I need is you, Frankie. You make me strong, and bold, and less afraid. And, I’m sorry it took me so long to tell you and I’m sorry.” Grace told her, her eyes beginning to water. “I’m sorry for everything.” A tear escaped her eye and slid down her cheek, this time she didn’t try to hide it or wipe it away, she let it fall. Frankie took a step closer to her in the small bathroom.

“I know we say this all the time, and I know you’re saying it in a different way than you ever have before. Thank you for telling me your feelings and telling me that. I just can’t say it back right now, not because I don’t feel the same way, I just need to wrap my head around it. I need to think. I need some space,” Frankie sighed and reached her hand out to caress Grace’s hile her other hand gently wiped the tear from Grace’s cheek. Frankie looked deep into her eyes and Grace though she might kiss her but a moment later she turned around and fled the bathroom, leaving Grace alone with her thoughts.


	11. Eleven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey guys! i’m on vacay still but wanted to give you this :) happy new year!

Grace let her eyes linger over the familiar outline of the beach house in the gentle light of the setting sun as she slowed the car to a halt and put it in park. She didn’t have to look over at Frankie to know there were tears in her eyes, that her hands were clenched tightly together against her heart. Grace reached her hand out to the woman in the passenger seat and let it rest gently on her thigh, inches away from her knee. Frankie took Grace’s cold hand in hers and let it rest in her lap.

“Are you ready?” Grace asked, looking over at Frankie who wiped a silent tear from her cheek. Grace squeezed her hand gently.

“As I’ll ever be,” Frankie sighed as she unhooked her seatbelt with her free hand and opened the car door. 

Grace held Frankie’s hand tightly in hers, rubbing her thumb over the other woman’s skin trying to comfort her as they slowly made their way to the front door of the house that looked the same but no longer felt like their home. 

“Here we go,” Frankie whispered as Grace put her key in the lock and turned it slowly, anticipation coursing deep in their bones. She withdrew her key from the slot and twisted the door knob, opening the door with more force than she meant to while Frankie clung to her. 

Grace led Frankie by the hand through the open door, she set her purse down in it’s usual spot and flipped on the light. She looked over at Frankie, felt her heart clench in her chest at the tears still streaming down her face. “Frankie,” Grace said, not really sure what she wanted to say, not sure what would help, so she closed her lips and pulled Frankie into her arms and squeezed. 

“How can we just leave this place behind?” Frankie asked, hands flailing at her sides, her voice cracking and her silent tears threatening to become sobs. She took off towards the direction of the kitchen, Grace slammed the front door and then took off after her. 

“The same way we both left our houses behind in the divorce. We made it through because of each other. We can do it again,” Grace called after her, finally catching up to the woman. She caught a glimpse of the tears still in her eyes and held her best friend tightly in her arms, her lips now incredibly close to Frankie’s neck, her pure thoughts instantly turning to something else. “Frankie, I know you need time and I respect that but I—with you this close to me, all I can think about is trailing my lips down your neck.” 

Frankie wiggled out of Grace’s grasp with a deep sigh, “I want you, Grace. More than I’ve ever wanted Del Taco, even when I’m high but I’m just not ready.” She paused, found Graces eyes then added: “No matter how much I want to be.”

Grace nodded her head understandingly while her brain screamed at her body to calm down. “When?” She asked, before she could stop herself as she reached out to touch Frankie’s arm, hating herself for being so needy. 

“I don’t know honey,” Frankie answered as truthfully as she could while Grace’s fingers were stroking her arm, leaving a path of feverish gooseflesh behind her. “It’s only been two days since everything between us changed. And as you know, I’m not good with change, and I hope you don’t think it’s because I don’t trust you. Because I do, trust you, and I do want you. And I hate myself for being a coward but I just can’t yet. I’m scared, Grace.” Frankie let her head fall against Grace’s shoulder.

“What are you scared of?” Grace whispered.

“Not being all that you hope I will, letting you down, getting hurt, hurting you, our time running out,” Frankie pulled Grace further into her, their bodies pressed against each other. Frankie heard the blonde woman’s breathing change, knew what that meant but she placed her hand on Graces hip anyway. She let her fingers dig into her thin side before she could stop herself. 

“Frankie, just being in the same room as you makes me clench my thighs together and when I think about you my body reacts in ways I didn’t even know was possible for a woman my age. Believe me when I tell you that you will not let me down, being with you will be all that I hope it will. Undressing you is going to be the most erotic experience of my life until I get to make you come undone beneath me,” Grace husked, her voice deep and eyes dilated. 

Frankie’s words caught in her throat and came out in the form of a moan, she felt her nipples tighten against the soft fabric of her thick dress. “Grace,” Frankie sighed, finally finding her voice. She let her slightly sweaty forehead rest against Grace’s. She felt the rapid rise and fall of the other woman's chest against hers and pressed her eyes together.

“I’m sorry,” Grace whispered, pulling out of the embrace and turning away from Frankie, she grabbed onto the counter with both hands to steady her shaky legs. “I shouldn’t do that, shouldn’t talk like that, not when you’re not ready.” Frankie came up behind her and placed a hand on the center of Grace’s back. 

“Why don’t you go stick your feet in the pool? I’ll be out in a minute,” Frankie told her and Grace quickly obeyed, walking to the back door and slipping outside into the warm California air. Grace had just finished rolling up her jeans to her knees and dipped her toes into the water when she heard the back door open behind her. She turned around to see Frankie carrying a fifth of Grey Goose and her weed box. 

“Well, what do we have here?” Grace asked, a smile tugging at her lips.

“I couldn’t let tonight pass without one last drink and joint with you.”

“We can always do this at our house,” Grace reminded her as she took the fifth from Frankie’s outstretched hands. 

“We have to give the house a proper send off. I’m glad the movers haven’t come yet, I wouldn’t want to see the house empty,” Frankie said, as she finished rolling the joint. She held it out to Grace, switching her for the vodka. Grace lit the joint and took a hit as she watched Frankie take a large drink out of the bottle. She held it back out to Grace, who shook her head. 

“I don’t want to get too drunk. I’m only having this glass,” Grace told her, before taking another toke of the weed. Frankie didn’t respond but Grace could tell it made her happy, Grace drinking less. She held the joint between her fingers out to Frankie, waiting.

“Have you ever been shotgunned?” Frankie asked, smoke coming out of her mouth with each word.

“Is that like a sex thing?” Grace asked after she swallowed a drink of her vodka. Frankie laughed, sounding like music to Grace’s ears. 

“No,” Frankie laughed, spinning the joint between her fingers. “I’m gonna take a hit, then blow it into your mouth.”

“Okay, that sounds simple enough,” Grace agreed, setting her glass down on the cement to her left. She turned to Frankie and waited.

Frankie smiled as she climbed to her knees on the pillow she was seated on, put the joint to her lips and inhaled, she sat the joint down on the tray she brought outside and placed her hands on either side of Grace’s face. Grace felt the heat of Frankie’s fingers travel through her body and she fought back the urge to moan at the contact. Frankie leaned forward, her lips mere centimeters from Grace’s. Grace felt her heart beat faster and she let her hands reach forward to grab onto Frankie’s hips. Frankie’s hand traveled down to Grace’s neck and rested there as Frankie exhaled the smoke into Grace’s parted lips. 

Grace let her eyes close, the feeling of Frankie’s lips so close to her almost being too much for her. She tugged at the fabric on Frankie’s hips, attempting to pull her closer. Her chest heaved and her nipples were painfully tight against the rough lace of her bra. Frankie lingered close to Grace, close enough that she could feel her hot breath against her tingling skin. 

“Frankie,” Grace said, sounding so much more like a moan than she had planned. “Breathe out so I can breathe you in,” Grace begged. She tried to steady her breathing while keeping her lips from Frankie’s skin. Her fingers continued to dig into Frankie’s sides, trying to pull her as close as she could get her.

“Grace,” Frankie whispered as she placed her hands over Graces. “I’m sorry, but if I stay this close to you, I’m not going to be able to stop myself from doing things I’m not ready for.” She held Graces hands as she moved away from Grace, back to her original spot on the pillow, with her feet in the pool. Frankie looked down between them, feeling Grace’s hands shaking. “Are you okay?” She asked concerned. 

“I’m okay,” She answered, clenching her fists together, trying to make them stop shaking. “It’s just the anticipation of what’s coming between us. I’m sorry, I don’t know how to make it stop. It happens when I think about you, when I’m near you, when I--” Grace trailed off, knowing she shouldn’t finish her sentence.

“When you--?” Frankie asked, her fingers digging into her own thigh.

“Yeah,” Grace whispered, eyes clenched shut as she focused on her breathing. 

“I think it would be best if we both went to bed, you in your room, me in my studio.”

“I think you’re right,” Grace said, voice slightly shaky. “Goodnight,” She added as she stood up from the cement and turned to go inside.

“Grace?” Frankie asked, lightly. Grace turned her body back to the woman but didn’t say anything. “Are you going to, um, you know?” She asked, suddenly shy for maybe the first time in her whole life.

Grace sighed, unsure of how to answer to make this less painful for the both of them. Just say no, Grace, make it easy, even if it’s a lie, her mind screamed at her but her mouth betrays her and she hears herself ask, “Do you want me to?” She feels her heart rate increase and her cheeks flush while she waits for a response.

“I want to be the one to make you feel good, I want to do the things I’ve been fantasizing about for years but not tonight. Soon,” Frankie promises, as she reaches out to touch Grace.

“I’ll wait then,” Grace says, before she realized what shes promising. “You can come sleep with me if you want? I promise, no funny business. I’ll keep my hands to myself,” Grace said, her hand over her chest. 

“I want to spend our last night here in my studio, but I believe you, Grace. And, with me there it’ll just make it hard. If I climb those stairs with you, I won’t be able to stop myself from fucking you,” Frankie whispered and Grace’s breath caught in her chest. 

“I’m going to go to bed now,” Grace said, promptly turning on her heels before either of them could say anything more to make it harder for Grace to keep her promise. 

Once in her room, Grace opened the windows, letting in the familiar scent of the ocean. She drew a bath and stripped off her clothes, since sleep was no way happening with all that was on her mind. 

She sunk down into the hot water, her mind feeling more free already. She heard her phone ding from the sink and reached her hand behind her to get it.

A single text from Frankie. 

“Thank you for being patient with me, you’ll never know what it means to me.” 

The bubbles appeared on the bottom of the screen, letting Grace know Frankie was typing. Another text came through.

“This is Frankie.”

Another ding.

“Frankie Bergstein.”

Grace began to type as the bubbles popped up again. 

“Before you list out all your AKA’s, I know it's you Frankie. I’ll give you all the time you need. I’ve been waiting my whole life, what’s a little longer?” 

Send. Then she began typing again.

“Frankie, I have to put my phone down, I’m in the bath.” 

Send. She held her phone on her chest and waited. Ding.

“If you wanted me to come there right now, I think I might be ready.” 

Grace bit her lip. 

“Maybe isn’t good enough Frankie. I’m not some horny teenage boy. I can wait for you to be ready.” 

Grace presses send, closes her eyes and set the phone down on the floor, trying to ignore her body begging to be touched everywhere. She hears her phone ding distantly but can’t bring herself to pick it up. 

Some time later Grace wakes, shivering. She quickly drains the tub and steps out, darkness everywhere surrounding her. She switches the light on then covers her body in the robe on the back of the door. She leans over and picks her phone up from the floor. 12 texts, all from Frankie. 

“Aren’t you sweet.”

Grace rolls her eyes.

“I’d like to taste how sweet.”

A blush creeps up her neck and she suddenly remembers she hasn’t gotten off. And, won’t be until Frankie is ready. The ache within her deepens. 

“Was that too much?” 

Her eyes roll again. 

“I’m sorry, I won’t talk like that anymore.”

“Unless you like it?”

 

“Do you like it when I talk dirty to you, Grace?” 

Grace rubs her hand over her face, willing herself to calm down. 

“I’d love to tell you other things, like what I’m doing to myself out in my studio while I think about you, but I’m not sure if it’d be going to far.”

“Let me know, if you’re interested.”

“Grace?”

“Are you okay?” 

“Did you drown in the bath?”

“Well, text me or something, let me know you’re okay. If I don’t hear from you in one hour, I’m coming in to check on you.” 

How long have I been asleep? She wonders as she types back a generic “I’m okay,” and presses send. She throws her phone down on the bed and takes off in the direction of Frankie’s studio. 

Grace rounds the corner of the living room and walks straight to the back door, her fingers shaky on the knob. She twists it and steps out into the night. Her feet carry her up the stairs and she's knocking on the door before she has a chance to think about what she’s doing, what she’ll say. When she knocks again and Frankie doesn’t answer, she throws the door open. Grace steps inside, slowly, energies and aromas hitting her hard. She goes straight to the hidden corner in the back where Frankie sleeps and finds the bed empty. 

“What the fuck,” Grace says out loud, switching the lamp on next to the bed, looking around to see if Frankie had fallen asleep somewhere else. She was about to call Frankie’s name when something in the other corner of the room caught her attention. Grace slowly crossed the room, each step making her see more clearly. By the time she reached what she was looking at, her hands were trembling and tears were streaming down her face. 

There, sitting on the easel, was a painting of Grace so different from the one of Count Drinkula that you almost couldn’t recognize they were by the same artist let alone painted of the same person. But Grace would know a Frankie B masterpiece anywhere. And, while the painting itself portrayed Grace as a soft goddess, it was unlike anything Grace had ever seen before, unlike anything she’d ever seen Frankie paint, unlike anyway she had ever viewed herself. Her eyes scanned over the painting again but this time it was the date she was now searching for. She picked up the painting and flipped it over, finding a sticky note. She recognized Frankie’s loopy handwriting before she had time to read what it said.

“Love of my Life, May 27th, 2016,” Read the note, and Grace gasped. May 2016? That was right after Babe, the vibrators, and the Gallery opening of Frankie’s. A hand on Grace’s shoulder brought her back from her thoughts. She placed the painting on the easel and turned around, face to face with Frankie. 

“You found your painting,” Frankie whispered.


	12. Twelve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry, guys this chapter is super short but the next chapter will be long!! sadly this story is coming to an end, only about two chapters left :( thanks for making this so fun and for sticking around with me throughout this story.

“Frankie,” Grace exhales, her eyes soft as they searched Frankie’s in the dimly lit room. “This--is how you see me?” Her hand floats up from her where it was resting at her side, pointing in the direction of the painting.

“Honey, the painting hardly does justice what I see when I look at you,” Frankie whispers, then before she can think of all the reasons why she shouldn’t, she steps forward and takes Grace’s face in her hands. She feels Grace’s breathing stop, feels her own heart thumping in her chest. 

Grace closes her eyes, tries to steady her breathing. “You gotta stop doing that.”

“Doing what?” Frankie asks, her breath hot against Grace’s face.

“Saying things that make me want to kiss you,” Grace whispers, afraid to open her eyes, afraid she’s gone too far. Afraid that Frankie will take her hands off her. Afraid Frankie will run away. 

“Grace, I am going to kiss you,” Frankie warns, giving her every chance to stop her before connecting her lips to Grace’s plump, parted ones. The kiss is brief, a promise of what is to come between them, but it wakes up every part of Frankie’s body and before it can continue Grace pulls away after only a moment. 

Her breathing is erratic, hands shaky, eyes dark. “I can’t do this with you if you’re not ready. Frankie, my body, I’ve never felt like this--I don’t know how to control it,” She lifts her hand to show Frankie, for the second time that day. She is wound tight, tighter than she’s ever been, ever imagined she could be. And, it’s taking all of her strength to not push Frankie against the wall behind them, down on the bed, up on the table. Anything. “I can’t,” She whispers again, shaking the delicious thoughts from her head, hating herself for being so weak. For not being able to control herself. 

“Tonight?” Frankie propositions, leaving her mouth as more a moan than anything else. She watches as Grace turns away from her, steadies her shaky hands on the counter in front of her. She can see Grace has her legs pressed together. Frankie closes the distance between them, places her hands on top of Graces. “Grace, I’m ready,” Frankie whispers, her words hot against Grace’s skin. She presses her lips against the thin fabric of Grace’s shirt, darts her tongue across it. Grace’s knees buckle and she catches herself.

“Tonight,” She repeats, eyes pressed closed.

“Want to take one last walk down our beach before we take off?”

“Now look who is in a hurry to get out of here,” Grace jokes as she turns around to see Frankie look like she just got slapped across the face. “I’m sorry. I’m gonna miss it here too.”

“I know,” Frankie sighs as she takes Grace’s still shaky hand in hers and leads her out their back door for the last time, to walk down the secluded section of the beach that was no longer theirs.


	13. Thirteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks so much for everyone who stuck with me for this story! i love you all. hope you enjoy :)

Back at their house, the one that wasn’t the beach house but still included a beach, Grace felt more at home than she had at the beach house the night before. As she steps out of the bathroom that she and Frankie share, she only hopes the same for Frankie. 

Grace slowly makes her way to her room, a half gone martini resting in her hand but is stopped short by the sound of sniffling coming from Frankie’s room. She peaks her head in the open door, finds her on the bed. 

“Frankie?” Grace’s mind goes into overdrive, imagining everything that could be wrong with Frankie. “What’s the matter?”

“I just keep thinking about all that happened in the house,” Frankie says, lifting her head and turning to look at Grace. 

“We’ll make new memories,” Grace promises from the doorway, meaning her words more than she had ever meant anything before. 

“Better ones, I know,” Frankie nods as she wiped a tear from her cheek. 

“So, what memories were you thinking about? Because we could get started on that whole making new ones thing right now,” She suggests, her curiosity winning the battle, her suggestive thoughts taking over.

“Well, I was thinking about the first time I slept in your bed, after the breakin. You we’re a little drunk, and asked me to tickle your back. Do you remember?” Frankie asks, then continues before Grace responds. “I started on the outside of your silk shirt, but eventually it rode up and I snuck my hand under and tickled your skin. You we’re so still, I thought you had fallen asleep but then you turned a little to say something to me, and my hand grazed the side of your breast.”

“I remember,” Grace exhales, the memory also being vivid in her mind, she brings her hand up to her neck, lets it linger there. 

“And, you let out a moan, not necessarily loud but it was unmistakably a moan. I think that was the first time I’ve ever heard you make a sound like that and it was because of me and it was the most beautiful sound I’ve ever heard. I don’t think I realized how deep in I was until then, until you moaned just from a graze of my hand and I was more turned on than I had ever been in my entire life.” 

Grace looks down, her hands are shaking again, she fights to get it under control. She fights to stop sweating. She fights to not moan out loud at the memory.

“I did also happen to be thinking about when I kissed you,” Frankie tells her, as she sits up in bed. Grace felt the atmosphere change around them as soon as Frankie began telling her about her memories, felt the air grow thicker, felt the arousal that has been with her for far too long ignite in her body. Grace holds Frankie’s gaze as she leans against the doorway, her palms are sweaty, thighs pressed tightly together. 

“Can I ask you something?” 

Grace nods eagerly, ready to answer whatever Frankie wants to ask her. Silently hopes it’s to take off her clothes. 

“How did you realize you were attracted to me?” Frankie asks, in the last minute she's switched positions on her bed three times and was now sitting on the edge, with her feet on the floor. 

“Well, it was little things at first, you infuriated me, but I always wanted to be around you, always wanted my hands on you, and I always told myself it was because you had beautiful skin. And, it just got stronger. Then, then day we got the prototypes of the Ménage, I grabbed the one out of your hand because I was so eager to try it, so eager to feel something,” Grace pauses. “And, when I was using it--I realized your hands were all over it, and then it was on me, in me.” 

Frankie sucks in a deep breath, squirms a little on the mattress but still holds Grace’s eye.

“And I felt this electricity flow through me, I came just from your hands being on the vibrator. It was small, but it was an orgasm. After that, it was always there. I think it always was, I just refused to accept it, refused to accept I was that person.” She stops, looks up at Frankie. “When was it for you?”

Frankie stands from the bed, steps away. “I have always been attracted to you, Grace. You are a beautiful woman. But I didn’t fall in love with you until much later.” 

Grace hears the words she’s said, knows what they mean, knows what Frankie is saying: she’s no longer afraid, she’s ready. Before Grace could stop herself, she began to erase the distance between them. The echo of her heels on the hardwood floor was acting as a measuring device. How many clicks until there wasn’t even room for air between them? 

Grace watches Frankie as she ran open palms over the fabric of her slacks, her own were also sweaty. Grace stopped, the echo of her heels being drowned out by the sound of her own heartbeat, leaving little space between them, if she were to shift her hips forward, their bodies would be one. 

Frankie’s gaze flickered down to Graces lips and then back up to her seas of blue, Grace watched as Frankies eyes glazed over and softened, and she relaxed her posture without letting out the breath she was holding. 

“Frankie, you have to breathe,” Grace whispered, having her own trouble keeping her breathing under control. 

Frankie’s eyes fluttered closed and she finally let out the breath she was holding. Grace shifted her body forward, her hips being the first thing to connect with Frankie. She let out a small squeak, followed by a bite to her lip while Frankie stood unbelievably still, waiting. 

Frankie reaches a long arm out to her right, pressing herself further into Grace and slams the door lightly shut behind the blonde woman's back, then walking slowly forward, inching Grace backward until her back met the hard wood of the door, her breath rushing out of her on impact. 

“Grace,” Frankie whispers with her eyes closed, Grace leans forward inhaling the intoxicating scent of Frankie’s hair, as she moved it out of the way, exposing Frankies neck. 

“Mmm,” Grace hums as a response, her hot breath leaving goose flesh down the length of Frankie’s body. 

“I want to go slow with you, take our time, Grace, I want to make you feel everything you should have been given ages ago, but I know I’m going to lose control,” Frankie presses her forehead against Grace’s, both their sweat mixing. “I want you so bad.”

Grace closes her eyes, feelings and sensations and arousal being too much for her to deal with. All of it being something she’s never felt, never experienced. Her hands shake against their resting place on Frankie’s hips and she digs her fingers into her soft skin to steady herself. Grace opens her mouth to respond but the only noise she can make come out is a deep, guttural moan. She sinks into the door behind her, lets her head fall back against the wood.

“I--” Grace begins, her voice almost as shaky as her hands. Her eyes stay locked on Frankie’s as she tries again. “I don’t know what to do, will you teach me?” Grace hooks her shaking hands onto the hem of Frankie’s Willie Nelson tee shirt and lift it over her head. She discards it onto the floor, lets her eyes rake over Frankie’s chest. Her hands have found their way back to Frankie’s hips, resting in neutral territory. “Teach me how to make you feel good, Frankie” Grace whispers.

Frankie draws in a breath, Grace can also see her hands shaking down by her sides. “Your mouth, I want your mouth,” Frankie tells her. Grace wastes no time, she pulls Frankie forward into her, her weight pinning Grace further back against the door. Their lips connect, and the kiss is nothing like the one they shared last night.

Grace’s mouth is hot on Frankie’s, her lips eager to taste everything in their path. She sucks Frankie’s bottom lip between her teeth and bites down, earning a moan from the dark haired woman. Her tongue probes her mouth, licks against her teeth, she tastes the organic toothpaste she buys them.

They part for air, both panting. Her head spins, one hand sneaks around Frankie’s body and rests against her ass. The other slides up her body, takes her breast lightly in her hand. She feels its weight, pinches the erect nipple between her fingers. Frankie arches into her hand, and her knee sneaks between Grace’s parted legs. 

Frankie can feel the heat Grace is radiating, knows how much she needs this. Knows how much they both do. Her hands find the buttons on Grace’s button down, she fumbles with them. Grace grinds down against her knee and lets out a moan. 

“Just fucking rip it,” Grace groans in frustration, not caring that the shirt was close to three hundred dollars and one of her favorites. Nothing mattered but her skin against Frankie’s. Frankie rips the shirt open, the sound of buttons hitting the floor is an unbelievably strong aphrodisiac against the blood pumping through her ears. 

Grace removes her hands from Frankie long enough to shrug the destroyed fabric down her shoulders, off her body. She reaches behind her with shaky fingers and unclips her bra, she lets it fall from her chest onto the floor. In the time since Frankie ripped her shirt, she’s backed up, giving her space to remove it. Her eyes take in the sight before her, Grace Hanson wearing only a pair of jeans and heels. She licks her lips but before she can respond, Grace has pushed her back into the mattress. 

Grace climbs onto top of Frankie, her good knee between Frankie’s thighs. She looks into Frankie’s eyes as she leans down and places a flat lick right below her left nipple. Frankie wiggles beneath her, her back arches and her hands pull at the sheets. Grace sucks her nipple between her teeth, bites down then licks the tender skin. 

“How come you get to have all the fun?” Frankie asks from below her, Grace looks up from her task, lets go of Frankie’s nipple with a pop.

“It seems to me you look like you’re thoroughly enjoying yourself,” Grace teases back, a smile playing at her lips. She moved her hand between Frankie’s parted thighs and let her hand feel her through the fabric. 

“Don’t tease me,” Frankie moans, Grace watches her eyes roll back in her head as her fingers circle over her clit. 

“If you don’t like my teasing, why are you moaning?” Grace asks, this new side of herself surprising her, showing her parts of herself she never knew she had. 

Frankie groans in frustration, but Grace can see the light in her eyes, the fire. A sudden ping of pain shoots through Grace’s knee, forcing her to remember she’s not as young as she once was, even if she feels like a horny teenager again, or maybe for the first time of her life, because she certainly doesn’t remember ever feeling like this. Grace’s hand shoots down to her knee, and she rolls off Frankie, onto her back next to her on the bed. 

“What’s the matter? Are you okay?” Frankie asks, her forehead wrinkling in concern as she sits up and scoots closer to Grace.

Grace runs her hand in circles over her knee and nods her head. “I’m fine, just not as young as I feel sometimes and then my body likes to smack me in the fucking face to remind me.” Grace rolls her eyes, thinking there could literally be no worse or more embarrassing time for this to happen. 

If she had been with a man, she wouldn’t even have been in this position, with men she never had any desire to be on top, had no desire to look at them. Instead, she just held them close to her neck, closed her eyes. For a while she pretended she was trying out a new rough draft of a dildo Frankie made her, that made it more fun to sleep with men, more bearable. Once, she imagined Frankie had been the one fucking her, but that almost ended badly when it helped her achieve a real orgasm, leaving her male companion to think she was faking because to no surprise, he had never gotten her off and she always pretended. He had assumed the one time she reacted differently, she was faking. 

If she was with a man, she would be drunk. There was no doubt about that. She would be feeling dizzy from the martini’s she’d consumed, but now she couldn’t imagine being drunk and risk the chance of forgetting any of what was happening between her and Frankie. And, Frankie’s touch had her more dizzy than any amount of vodka ever did.

If Grace was with a man, it would be dark. There would be no light making its way through the curtains and all the lights would certainly be off.

If she had a man in her bed, the door would be closed, locked. There would be no uncalculated moans. Nothing she hadn’t planned out before hand. 

If Grace was fucking a man, she wouldn’t be this turned on. And, she certainly would not be wet. But, she’s not surprised that she feels the arousal her body has produced. Frankie has gotten her this way before, without even knowing it. Without having any idea. Without even touching her.

“Let me look at it,” Franke suggests, her hands coming to rest at the button on Grace’s jeans, waiting. Asking for permission. Grace gazes up at Frankie, nods her head. 

Frankie unbuttons the jeans and helps Grace hike them down her hips, exposing her tan skin and a black lace thong that matched her discarded bra. Frankie’s sharp intake of air takes Grace’s pain away momentarily and when it comes back, it's just a dull ache, nothing like the throbbing she felt moments ago. 

Frankie’s fingers replace Grace’s own on her knee, they circle the skin, burn everywhere they touch. Grace lays back against the duvet, entirely unsure how Frankie rubbing her knee has turned into the most erotic experience of her life thus far. 

“How’s it feel, baby?” Frankie asks, Grace’s thighs press together at the choice of words. The throbbing in her knee is gone, suddenly resurfacing in her pussy. 

“The ache has moved up slightly,” Grace instructs, hoping Frankie has caught on to her subtle suggestion, but to her luck she has not. Frankie nods, moves her hands up two inches, begins rubbing again.

“Here?” She asks, her fingertips beginning to dig into her skin.

“Mmm, a little higher,” Grace grabs Frankie’s fingers, leads her hand up between parted legs, lets it drop on the inside of her thigh. “Touch me,” she begs. 

Frankie lets her finger brush lightly against the rough fabric, she feels Grace’s arousal through the thin lace. “Baby, why didn’t tell me you needed it this bad?” Frankie asks then lets her finger rub harder, circling against Grace’s clit. 

“Frankie, o--oh god, I’m gonna come,” Grace whines, her hands in the sheets, grabbing fistfuls and yanking the fitted sheet from the corners. Grace’s orgasm rips through her, tears her apart, leaves her sobbing for oxygen. Her eye’s refocus, she brings her hand to her face. “Frankie, I am so sorry,” Grace apologizes. 

“Why are you telling me you’re sorry?” Frankie asks, her hand now trailing over the inside of Grace’s thigh.

“I didn’t mean to do that, it wasn’t supposed to happen.”

“Hey, you deserved that, and you deserve the next million orgasms I give you. Don’t be ashamed it happened fast,” Frankie shrugs, her eyes dark. “You were hot, that looked amazing.”

“But you hardly even touched me,” Grace sighs, her face red.

“And, I want to touch you again. And, again. Are you up for that?” Frankie hooks her fingers into the sides of Grace’s panties. 

“God, yes, please,” The ache within Grace has only dimmed, it hasn’t been put out. Grace was half afraid it never would. As Frankie menavures her panties down her toned thighs, Grace turns onto her side, faces Frankie. “I want--” Grace begins, then stops, not quite sure how to ask Frankie for what she craves.

“Tell me, baby, whatever you want. I’ll do it,” Frankie promises, as she settles beside Grace on the oversized bed. 

Grace racks her brain for terms she’s heard in the past, terms she’s sure Brianna has used once or twice, terms she’s heard slurred by her prestigious friends but she falls short. “Um, I don’t know what it’s called. But I am pretty sure it has a name. Uh--” Grace stops, her confidence from before gone. 

“Baby, tell me,” Frankie repeats, she looks deep into Grace’s eyes, her own being as non-judgemental and soft as they’ve ever been. Grace leans forward, kisses Frankie on the mouth, lets her tongue slide in. 

They’ve only kissed a handful of times but Grace feels like she’s been doing it forever. Feels like she could continue doing it forever, and she hopes she gets the chance. 

“Is there a way we can, touch--all of our bodies together?” Grace asks softly, her voice not betraying her in the bedroom for the first time in her long life. She smiles, proud of herself. “Frankie, I’ve never done this before. I’ve never asked for anything in bed.”

“Honey,” Frankie struggles out, Grace can see the hurt in her eyes. “I am so proud of you.” She swallows hard. “By all of our bodies? You mean--?” 

Grace cuts her off, “yes.” She meant it to come out confident, but it sounded like a beg more than anything else. 

“Oh, god, baby,” She moans. “It’s going to hurt, but I’ll give you anything you want. We can try it. You have to let me know if your knee or your hip starts to hurt, I don’t want us breaking anything,” Frankie tells her. 

“I want you so bad, I’ve never wanted anything like this,” Grace whispers against Frankie’s skin. She bites down gently on Frankie’s collar bone as she helps inch Frankie’s panties down her legs. She lets her hand trail up her soft thighs after they’ve discarded her panties on the floor, she feels heat the higher up she goes, Grace bites her lip between her teeth as her fingers come into contact with sparse, sticky hair. Frankie’s wet, too. Grace lets the moan in her throat out, tries her best to let her body be her guide. 

“How do we do this?” Grace asks, her hand still between Frankie’s thighs. Instead of answering, Frankie sits up, pulls Grace up behind her. She manovers herself close to Grace, spreads her legs then hoists Grace’s left leg over her right one.

“You’re so flexible,” Frankie observes, her mind going wild with possibilities of things they could do. Grace had her hands placed behind her, holding her up. She lifted herself slightly off the mattress with her hands and scooted herself forward, towards Frankie. She felt the heat from Frankie’s core against her own. 

“I’m shaking again,” Grace confessed, as she brought one hand forward, used it to grip onto Frankie’s thigh with. “Does this feel okay for you? Is your disk bothering you?” Grace asked, concern washing over her as she looked at Frankie’s face.

“I’m okay, just trying not to come,” Frankie groans through gritted teeth, Grace’s fingers digging into her skin harder.

“Frankie, I have to move, are you ready?” Grace asks, she feels blood coursing through her every vein, feels her head spinning. Her hands shake, the arousal in her stomach is once again a raging wildfire.

Frankie doesn’t answer, instead she just arches her hips against Grace. Moans fall out of both of their mouths, white hot fire runs through Grace as her hips work slow and steady against Frankie’s. 

Grace gasps against the sensations she’s feeling, Frankie against her, the fan in Frankie’s room blowing cool air against her erect nipples, cooling the sweat thats beginning to drip down her back. “Ahhh,” Grace moans, she takes her hand from Frankie’s thigh and lets it trail up her body, she connects her lips to Frankie’s neck and sucks. 

“Grace,” Frankie chokes out, “Gonna--come.” Grace pulls her lips away from Frankie’s neck, leans back enough to look into the brunettes eye’s, she feels her thighs shake against her own. 

Grace feels pain in her hip, knows Frankie has to feel some, too. This position was definitely not ideal for women over a certain age, but Grace couldn’t bring herself to stop until she made Frankie come against her in a way she might never get to feel again.

“Next time, I want to taste you,” Grace whispers, her words causing Frankie to moan again. She could hear their bodies working against each other, could hear their arousal mixing. Grace threw her head back, smiled against the pain she felt. She grabbed a fistful of Frankie’s thick hair with her hand, gently yanked her head back. Plump lips connected to Frankie’s jaw bone, bit against her skin. 

“I’m coming,” Frankie groans, “faster--Grace,” she begs, Grace closes her eyes and does as Frankie asks against her aching body’s protests. Frankie’s hands are everywhere at once as she comes, on her own breasts, on Grace’s face, digging into Grace’s thigh. Grace feels the beginning of her own orgasm begin to tear its way through her body. She connects her lips to Frankie’s open mouth, probes her with her tongue. Frankie moans into her mouth. Grace breaks the kiss to watch Frankie, watches as she comes down from her orgasm, head thrown back, sweat dripping down her neck, breasts pressed against Graces. 

Grace feels her third orgasm of the night take over her body, she feels it control her, feels the tears running down her cheeks. All of a sudden, Frankie’s hand is between their bodies, rubbing gently against Grace, bringing her down slowly. Grace smiles as she rests her forehead against Frankie’s, their sweat mixing. 

Frankie throws her body back against the bed, Grace wipes her eyes and swings her legs as gently as she can off of Frankie’s body. She groans when the pain her orgasm was chasing off hits her. “Fuck,” She mumbles and lays down next to Frankie.

“Why are you crying? Did I hurt you? I told you to fucking tell--”

 

“You didn’t hurt me,” Grace cuts her off. “I mean, I’m sore but it was worth it. Besides, that’s not why I’m crying,” She confesses.

“Talk to me,” Frankie begs, she pulls the discarded duvet that somehow ended up on the floor up over their bodies, shielding them. She lets her hand rest against Grace’s thigh.

“That’s never happened to me before,” Grace whispers, looking at the ceiling, a satisfied look on her face.

“Scissoring? I know.” Frankie answers, confused. 

“No, I’ve always faked it, with another person. It’s only ever been real with myself. With you, I didn’t have to pretend anything,” Grace tells her, leaning on her arm, her eyes burning into Frankie’s soul.

“I’m sorry I didn’t find you earlier. I’m so sorry, Grace,” Frankie whispers, her own eyes filling with tears as she pulls Grace close to her. “You deserve the world, you always have.”


End file.
